


Caught Out

by nyagosstar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull was pretty sure this was the last time they were going to send him out to pick up pizza. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the Adoribull Prompt Sunday prompt--AU Pizza Delivery. It was supposed to be short, five hundred words and done. But it kept digging at me so here we are.

Bull caught sight of the figure on the side of the road too late. The passenger side tire dove into the puddle, splashing the stranger in a wall of water to match the evening’s downpour. He had enough time to see the slumped shoulders and the hanging head before he made his decision. He pulled to the side of the road, threw his flashers on, and grabbed his umbrella before he headed back to the soaked figure.

“I’m so sorry,” he said over the roar of the rain. Up close the guy was even more miserable looking, didn’t even try to yell at Bull.

“What’s a little more water?” He was young, looked younger in his drowned clothes and matted hair.

Bull handed over the umbrella into chilled hands. “You waiting for a ride?” It was a mostly empty stretch of road. Not good for meeting people or hitching rides. 

The guy looked up at the umbrella. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The emptiness of his tone settled along Bull’s spine like a flash of ice. The guy didn’t look dangerous, but something was off. He leaned down to catch the stranger’s eye. “You okay? Do you need help?”

He shook his head, but it seemed more like he didn’t know how to answer than he didn’t want help.

“Okay. I’m Bull. What’s your name?”

“Dorian.”

Bull chucked his thumb over his shoulder. “Okay, Dorian. How about this? We get in my car and I drive you somewhere with a lot less water. Is there someone you can call?”

Again Dorian shook his head, but he let Bull lead him to the car and usher him into the passenger seat after he moved the pizza boxes to the back. It was going to be cold by the time he got them back to the boys, but he thought they’d understand. Or at least be used to it by now.

Bull pulled out a couple of blankets and some bottles of water he kept in the trunk and passed them over to Dorian when he got in on his side. Dorian took them with shaking hands and set them in his lap. Bull had to reach over and buckle him in and then spread the blankets over him. “Can you tell me where you live? I can drive you home.”

Dorian started laughing, strained and painful. He raised a shaking hand to his face to wipe away the water and Bull saw a trace of red on his wrist and the cuffs of his shirt were darker than water would account for.

“Are you hurt?” He flicked on the overhead light and took Dorian’s hand. There was a long, vertical slice running up Dorian’s arm, not deep, but still bleeding. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch. “Okay, new plan. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

Dorian’s hand shot out and he gripped Bull’s arm with surprising strength. “No. He’ll know. My father,” he stopped, choked off.

Bull knew, objectively that people were terrible everywhere, but it always seemed like he found a special level of awful whenever they were in Tevinter. “Your father did this to you?”

Dorian turned his face to the window, his lips pressed tight and bloodless. 

“All right. Okay.” He turned on the car. “One of my boys is a paramedic, so he can take a look at you. But it’s just for the night until we can get you somewhere safe, all right?” He pulled back out onto the road, and tried not to think about what Krem’s would say when he walked in with another stray. At least this one would be temporary. 

The rain had mostly stopped by the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot, so it was easy to maneuver Dorian and four boxes of pizza out of the car. The looks from the front desk attendant and the couple who rode the elevator with them were less fun, but nobody stopped them. 

Which was, actually, kind of shitty. 

Bull kept one hand on Dorian’s shoulder as they walked. The guy looked drained and kept listing to the side. The last thing Bull needed was his planting his face in the carpet. At the door, he couldn’t dig out his key card, so he banged until Dalish let him in, figuring it was too soon to ask Dorian to get the key from his pocket.

She took one look at Dorian, and then turned her gaze on Bull in a mixture of pity and scorn. “We asked you to pick up pizza, Boss. Not shems.” She took the pizza boxes and left to let Bull sort out his own mess.

“It’s just the one.” But she wasn’t listening. He closed the door and led Dorian into the common room of the suite, a large open space that separated the bedrooms on either side. Bull settled Dorian onto one of the couches and waved over Stitches. “Here we go, big guy. You sit here and Stitches is going to take a look at you. I’m going to get you a towel.”

Krem, who’d been twitchy since they crossed the border, grabbed his arm and dragged him into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“I found him on the side of the road. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

Krem ran his hand over his face. “Are you _trying_ to get us arrested? He’s an altus, he’s covered in blood, and you thought you’d just pick him up?”

Bull grabbed a stack of clean towels. “He needed help.”

“Did you get a name?”

Bull heaved a sigh and turned to shout out into the main room. “Hey Dorian, what’s your last name?”

“Pavus,” he stuttered through chattering teeth.

“You want to hurry it up with those towels, Chief? Kid’s in shock.” Stitches was crouched in front of Dorian taking his pulse and looking at his eyes.

Krem’s grip on his arm tightened. “Pavus. You picked up Dorian fucking Pavus on the side of the road and brought him here?” He shook his head. “This is not good, Chief. Did anyone see you bring him in?”

“The guy at the front desk and the couple in C23.”

Krem moaned. “We’ve got to pack up and go. We’ll call Passeri from the road and tell her that the contract is off.” He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling as he ran the numbers. “We can return the fee plus fifteen percent for damages and we won’t take too much of a hit. Hotel’s paid through the week, your stray can stay here until it runs out.” He walked out into the main room and raised his voice. “Everybody pack your shit, we’re out in ten.”

“Last I checked, I was the one who made decisions around here.” Bull kept his voice even as he stared down at Krem.

“Yeah, well, when you make stupid ass decisions, someone else is in charge for a bit. Did you read any of the information for this job? You just picked up the only son of one of the most powerful families in Tevinter. His dad is nuts. He will roast us alive.”

Bull remembered the look on Dorian’s face when he said his father was responsible. “Shit.”

“Hey, Chief. We’ve got a bigger problem here.” Stitches called them over. He’s managed to help Dorian from his shirt and in addition to the twin slices on the inside of each arm, there was an elegant glyph burned into the center of Dorian’s chest. The size of a serving platter, it was raw and red.

Dorian was shivering, his eyes glassy. Bull snapped a finger in front of his face to get his attention. “You said your dad did this?” Behind him, Krem swore, but Bull kept his focus on Dorian, who nodded. 

Dalish edged in and sniffed. “Blood magic?”

Again, Dorian nodded. “He tried,” but the rest of the story wouldn’t come.

“He didn’t finish whatever he started?” Bull waited for Dorian’s no then swept his gaze around the room. “Krem’s right. Let’s pack up. Stitches, patch him up as best as you can. We’re not leaving him here, though. He’s coming with us.”

Bull’s bag was already packed. It had been years since he had to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice at any given moment, but it was a hard habit to break, and it served him well at that moment. While Stitches finished with Dorian, Bull packed up his things and also sorted out a new shirt and jeans for Dorian. Even though Stitches had a couple inches on him, they couldn’t have him walking around in wet clothes.

On the couch, Dorian had a towel draped over his head. Stitches had bandaged his arms and chest, though tiny pinpricks of red were already seeping through. “Just for the record, I don’t like moving him so soon.” Stitches stood and took his suitcase.

“I know.” On his own, Bull would have holed up in the hotel with Dorian for another day or two, but Krem’s instincts were rarely wrong. “Skinner, Dalish, go start up the cars. We’re not going to be able to leave without a fuss, so Krem go check us out. Everyone else leave in pairs. I’ll handle Dorian.” Dorian, who was still sitting shirtless and dazed. 

“Come on, big guy,” he said as the Chargers went into action. “You’ve got to put on the clothes, not just look at them.” When it didn’t look like Dorian was going to move on his own, Bull reached out to draw him to his feet. He eased the button down over Dorian’s bandages and did up the buttons when Dorian’s fingers were too clumsy for the task. His skin was still chilled. 

The room was mostly empty, just Rocky grabbing the pizza boxes, so it gave them a little privacy. People could be weird about that. “Pants, too.” Bull thought he might hesitate, but Dorian just shucked them off and let them fall to the floor in a wet heap, like they were nothing instead of ridiculously expensive. He pulled on the jeans, holding on to Bull’s arm for balance and then Bull knelt to cuff the too long hems.

With his bag over his shoulder, Bull grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and then ushered Dorian out of the room. “Think you can hold it together until we get to the car?”

Dorian gripped the bar behind him in the elevator and closed his eyes. The fine shivers stopped first. Then, Dorian opened his eyes, ran his hand through his hair turning it from wayward to artfully disheveled. He plastered a careless grin on his face and hooked his arm through Bull’s. “Of course, darling.” There was hardly a tremor to his voice. If Bull hadn’t seen it happen, hadn’t seen him listless and empty in the rain, he would have believed it entirely.

The elevator dinged and Dorian sauntered out into the lobby, loose limbed and cheerful. Krem was waiting by the door and in moments they were in the parking lot. Krem slid into the driver’s seat of the van while Dalish was behind the wheel of the other car. Bull got in next to Dorian and helped him secure his seatbelt. Stitches settled in on the other side.

They were on the road without any fuss and though he kept looking, there were no flashing lights of police cruisers behind them.

Quiet settled over the car. The show Dorian put on for the lobby fell away and he was left pale and silent. Stitches tucked a blanket around him and urged him to drink one of the bottles of water. Eventually, he handed the empty bottle back and then a moment later, he was asleep.

Krem kept meeting Bull’s gaze in the rearview. “What?”

“What’s the plan here, Chief?”

Bull took a minute to look at Dorian. The hunted air to him eased in his sleep as he leaned in toward Bull. He was older than Bull thought, since he wasn’t dripping and stunned. Damn pretty, too.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” He was defensive and as soon as he said it, he knew he played it wrong.

“We are not kidnapping one of the most photographed Alti in the country just for your booty call.”

“That hurts, that’s hurtful, Krem. Is it really kidnapping if he came with us willingly?”

Krem jerked on the turn signal with more force than necessary. “In his state? You don’t even need a half decent lawyer to claim we took advantage of him. And his family? They’ve got way better than half decent lawyers.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

Krem’s sigh was aggrieved and Stitches had his face turned firmly to the window, pretending not to listen. “Do you read the news or watched even ten minutes of the local broadcasts since we’ve been here. You have a phone, fucking google him.”

Bull pulled out his phone. “Clearly you need some time to calm down.”

“Calm down. Calm down he says. I did not get out of this Maker forsaken place to end up back here. In _prison_. We are not doing any more jobs in Tevinter. I mean it, Chief. Stop fucking taking me here.”

“All right,” he held up a hand and then turned his attention to his phone. Sometimes it was best to let Krem fume a bit on his own. 

The search didn’t take long to pull up information; Dorian Pavus had his own Wikipedia page. He was listed on the board of the Minrathous Circle. His name was attached to dozens of articles on magic—high level shit that Bull had no hope of following. There were hundreds of photographs of him, some official, some candid shots from people’s phones. He looked good in all of them. He was the scion of House Pavus and set to inherit millions and was considered one of Tevinter’s most eligible bachelors. 

He’d also been missing from the public eye for almost three months.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So. What’s the plan?”

Dorian’s head was warm and heavy against his arm. “We get out of the city. Ditch the cars, then get out of the country.

Krem made an unimpressed sound. “With him.”

“Yeah. If he wants.”

“Great. You know what else is awesome?” He frowned at Bull in the rearview. “Rocky took all the pizzas with him in the other car.”

That explained more about Krem’s mood. He got so cranky when he wasn’t fed. “We should stop and get something.”

“Yeah, we should. And you’re buying me the biggest Maker-damned fries on the menu.”


	2. Chapter 2

The car smelled like fast food, but Bull figured it was worth it. Krem looked less like he was ready to rip Bull’s head off and was focused instead on the road. Minrathous was a big place, and even late there was a lot of traffic. They had another half hour, maybe more, before they were over the bridge and outside the city limits.

Bull had already made the call to Passeri’s people and squared away the transmission of funds. It hurt to lose the job, but Krem was right. They had the ability and Bull knew a company who worked out of Nevarra that could take on the job without too much fuss. It wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was prison. 

As they sped through the night, Bull kept checking his phone for news bulletins about the missing Pavus heir, but so far, it had been quiet. Krem seemed pretty sure that the elder Pavus would come after them, but Bull also figured a high profile guy like that would want to keep it quiet. He didn’t have enough information about the situation and it was making him anxious. Mistakes got made when he didn’t have all the details. 

“Doesn’t Skinner know a guy who does cars?” Krem asked once he finished his food, his tone so much less angry.

“Yeah, but he’s not close enough to help.” Bull leaned back and squinted at the ceiling. “There’s a long-term parking terminal for the airport.”

Stitches leaned around Dorian’s sleeping form. “You’re not going to try and fly us out of here, are you, Boss?”

“If they’re looking for him, airports are going to be on alert. No. I want to ditch the cars while Krem and Skinner boost us some replacements from the parking lot.”

“Aw, Chief.” Krem grinned at him in the rearview. “Now I know you’re trying to make me feel better. You haven’t let me steal a car in ages.”

That had been part of his plan. He didn’t like it when his second in command was upset with him. They worked well together, even when they were fighting, but it was smoother when Krem was happy. “Think you still got it?”

“Please. I could steal this car while you were driving it and you’d never know.” It was true, and the beginning of the story of how they met. It wasn’t the stealing of the car that got Krem into the fight that led to Bull losing an eye, but not being able to keep his mouth shut when a group of soldiers started harassing the waitress at a bar on the border.

The stolen car was what kept them from getting caught when half of the local police squad came after them for roughing up the son of the police chief. There was something about getting blood all over the seats of a stolen car that really helped them bond. And patching each other up in a shitty hotel room to cement their friendship.

Outside the city in an abandoned parking lot, Krem and Dalish pulled over so that Krem and Skinner could head out toward the long term parking garage on foot. “We’ll ditch the cars in the neighborhood. Call us when you’re ready to meet up.” Bull nudged Dorian awake before he took over as driver.

“I know you’d rather be sleeping, but we’re going to need to move around some and it’ll be better if you’re awake now.” He jerked his thumb at the bag on the seat next to him. “There’s food. Burger and fries.”

Dorian’s movements were sluggish, but purposeful as he sat up straighter and opened the bag. His frown at the bag’s contents was exquisite. “Where did you get this?”

“Just eat. One burger isn’t going to kill you. Right, Stitches?”

“As if I’d take the word of a man who goes by the name Stitches.” Still, he pulled out the food, kept the burger wrapped in the paper as he ate, all neat and tidy. Not surprising considering how trimmed and landscaped he kept his pubic hair. Bull hadn’t taken a long look, but it was hard not to notice when it was right in front of him. “What?” Dorian asked around a bite as Bull’s gaze lingered.

“Nothing.” He turned his attention back to the road. “We’re going to have to do some walking. You up for that?” Dorian was still pale and he was doing a good job of hiding the tremble in his hands, but he didn’t look like he could wander the neighborhood indefinitely.

But there was no hesitation in his answer. “I’ll be fine.”

Bull let him finish his food in peace as he looked for a likely neighborhood. He found a quiet street with plenty of cars parked along the curb and pulled over. “Grab your shit. We’re going to switch the plates and then head out.” He let Stitches collect their things from the van and get Dorian on his feet as he flipped the plate on the van with a nice SUV across the street. Dalish was giving the same treatment to the car, just up the road. It wouldn’t buy them a ton of time, but any extra would be worth it.

They gathered up, Dorian in the center of the pack and headed out to the meeting place to wait for Krem and Skinner. Dorian kept decent pace with them, but as soon as they stopped, he wavered. Bull stepped in, kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him upright and silently urged Krem to hurry up. Careful was better than fast, but sometimes fast was necessary.

Dorian made a small sound, almost a whine, but he shook his head when Bull nudged at him. A moment later he did it again. He waved a frantic hand at Dalish and Rocky to get out of his way and then he was bent over, heaving into the grass. Bull kept a hand on his back and murmured soft words of encouragement as the rest of his guys scattered. 

He was pale again, and his skin fever hot when he finished. He cast a miserable glance at Bull as he spat on the ground. “Sorry.”

Bull shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” He’d seen plenty worse from people he knew a lot less. At least Dorian had been considerate of his shoes.

Stitches came up with a bottle of water and a clinical touch. He looked at Bull. “Don’t like this fever, Boss. Blood magic is outside my range of talents.”

Bull didn’t like it either, but there wasn’t anything to be done just then. “We’ll deal with it when we can.” He patted Dorian’s back. “You going to puke again?”

Dorian attempted to shake his head, but the movement must have been too much as he wavered and would have fallen had Bull not been there to catch him. “I’m not usually so helpless,” Dorian said. He looked wiped out and miserable. 

“Don’t worry about it. Krem’ll be here soon and then we’ll head out. I know a guy at a border crossing that can get us through without a lot of fuss and then we can breathe.”

“Border crossing?”

Bull forgot that he hadn’t had a chance to talk with Dorian yet about their plan. “Yeah, if that’s what you want. Krem said you’re pretty well known here and your dad has a lot of power. Thought it might be best to get you out of the country if this is the kind of thing he was trying to do.”

Dorian nodded. “It’s a good plan, but I don’t have my passport.” He patted the pockets of Stitches’ jeans with clumsy hands. “I don’t have anything.”

“Shit.” Two pair of headlights turned in their direction as Bull got a text from Krem that he had eyes on them. Skinner was behind the wheel of a sleek four door sedan while Krem drove modern station wagon. Neither one of them was big enough for Bull and his horns. “What the fuck, Krem?” he asked as the cars pulled up and were left idling as they re-packed their gear.

“This was the best of the bunch, Chief. There was an SUV that would have fit you, but it looked like it’d been sitting there for about twenty years and it had no gas. These are both tanked up and in good condition. You can sit on the floor in the back. It’s not great, but we can pick up new rentals when we cross the border.”

“Yeah, about that. We’ve got a new plan. We head to the safe house until we can get fake papers for Dorian so we can get across the border.”

Krem took in a breath and Bull could practically hear him counting back from ten before he spoke. “You didn’t think this was a thing to know before we started this little adventure.”

“He was pretty out of it. We can handle this. We’ll get him fakes and be on our way, just a couple extra days. Garrin’s a good guy and he lets a lot of shit slide, but he can’t let someone through his border without any ID.” He helped settled Dorian in the back seat of the station wagon and then settled himself on the floor at his side. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but not the worst ride he’d ever had.

Dorian’s leg was pressed up against his shoulder and when Krem took a sharp turn, he reached out and grabbed hold of Bull’s horn. He let go almost immediately. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He didn’t love it when strangers tried to touch his horns, but Dorian was different.

The hand crept back, hesitant and then slid around the base of his left horn where it met the skin of his head. Dorian’s hand was warm and smooth. “Can you feel that?” His head was resting against the seat, and rolled in Bull’s direction as if the effort of keeping it up was too much. 

“Just at the base. The horns don’t have any feeling.”

Dorian made an interested sound, but further questions didn’t come. He rubbed at the base of the horn for a few minutes until all his movements stopped and he was asleep again. Krem’s disapproval radiated from the driver’s seat.

“Let’s just get to the safe house.” Bull leaned back and tried not to think about how nice it felt to have Dorian’s hands on him. 

#

Their safe house was a smallish affair on the edge of a forest. Close enough to a small town that they could run and get supplies, far enough away that strangers would have to make a special trip to see them. They unloaded first, got Dorian settled in a bed where Stitches could take a better look at him.

Bull sent Grim off to get supplies to keep them in for a couple of days and he and Krem walked through the property to look at their defenses. It wouldn’t hold out against an all-out assault, but they’d have some warning before anyone got to the door and there were a handful of traps that would catch an intruder unawares. By the time everyone was settled and back inside it was well past two in the morning.

“I’ll call Varric in the morning and see what he can do for Dorian’s ID.”

The rest of the Chargers had found places to sleep, stretched out on beds, on couches. In the case of Dalish and Skinner, curled together on the floor. Only Bull and Krem were still awake and he could see Krem was fighting sleep. 

“I know you love picking up lost causes, but is this really a good idea, Chief? We already had to cancel a contract, and the money it’s going to take to get him papers and across the border isn’t insignificant.”

“You think we should leave him here and hope for the best?”

Krem sighed and slumped back in his chair, boneless, exhausted. “No.” He rubbed his face. “I just worry that we wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t so pretty.”

“He is easy on the eyes.” Or he would be, once he was firmer on his feet. “But, yeah. It’s the right thing to do.”

“This could go really badly for us.”

Bull heaved himself up, his knees and spine popping as he stretched. “Have a little faith, Krem. I haven’t steered you wrong, yet.”

Krem smiled and held up a tired hand signal for Horns Up.

“Get some sleep.” Bull wandered off to the room with Dorian and propped himself in a chair, legs stretched out before him and fell asleep to the sound of Krem’s footsteps on the stairs.

A hand on his shoulder woke him with the weak light of dawn creeping through the window. Dalish was at his side. “You got to see this, Chief.” She beckoned him to the living room where Krem and Skinner were seated in front of the television watching the local news station. There was a picture of Dorian running in the top right hand of the screen, his eyes dark with kohl, his already radiant face bronzed and a smile to stop a heart spread across his face. 

“It’s been playing since I got up,” Krem said as Bull took a seat next to him. “They’re saying there was a break in at the Pavus estate and he’s been taken. Pavus senior is about to go on to make a public plea for his return.”

The news anchor directed their attention to a podium as the cameras zoomed in on an older man, tall with greying hair. He didn’t look much like Dorian, expect in the way he carried himself, the slight twist of the mouth. He looked appropriately haunted.

“My name is Halward Pavus. Last night, my home was invaded and my son,” he stopped, choked, and then recovered. It was a good act, almost flawless. But there was a coldness to his eyes that his acting didn’t reach. Bull didn’t think there were many people watching who would notice. “Dorian Pavus was taken. I’m here to beseech whoever took him to return him to us, unharmed. He is my only son and his mother and I only wish for his safe return.”

“What a fucking bastard.” Bull turned to find Dorian in the doorway, his hand pressed against the door to keep him upright. 

On the screen, a detective moved Halward Pavus aside and took over the podium. “It appears from the evidence on scene that blood magic was involved in this action. One of the Pavus servants was found dead on the scene and there was a significant amount of blood. There is some concern that the magic in use may have long term affects and that Dorian Pavus is in need of urgent medical care.” The detective rattled off the usual about keeping a look out, and directed viewers to call a special hotline number with tips. “The Pavus family is offering a reward for credible information that leads to the return of Dorian Pavus.” A number flashed at the bottom of the screen and Skinner whistled. It was a lot of money.

“That front desk attendant’s going to call in for sure.” Krem slipped in looking like he hadn’t slept at all. “Maybe the couple down the hall, too. Twenty four hours and our faces are going to be all over the place as people of interest. We’ll be lucky to make it ten steps from the door by this time tomorrow.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his feet planted shoulder-width apart and stared down at the screen like he could make the message change through will alone. “I think it’s time for another plan.”

“After breakfast. Grim, Stitches, you’re on kitchen duty. Don’t care what you make as long as there’s a lot of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the complications and the machinations of Halward Pavus. You pick up one stray guy on the side of the road and you pay and you pay and you pay.


	3. Chapter 3

With Stitches busy on breakfast, Bull sat Dorian down to look at his wounds. They were worse in the light of day. The cuts on his arms should have scabbed over but were still bleeding in sluggish red lines. The glyph on his chest looked as if it had been burned into Dorian’s skin, the flesh inflamed and red, hot to the touch.

He worked for a while in silence cleaning and tending as he could. There was a restlessness in Dorian that made him think he wanted to talk, so Bull stayed quiet and let him come to in on his own. It was one thing to accept a ride from a stranger in the rain, or take a little help after an injury. It was something else entirely to stay with a bunch of strangers, on the run from the people who were supposed to be safe in the first place.

“What is it that you do?”

Bull kept his focus on tending Dorian’s wounds as he answered. “We run security.”

“There are quite a lot of you to be bodyguards. Is it more like a secret service detail?”

“Not exactly.” He thought about lying, but didn’t think it would help any. “Our clients don’t have government protection. Usually they already have their own people, we just provide more active protection.” Dorian tensed under his hands, but to his credit didn’t move away.

When he spoke, his voice was careful. “And these clients of yours. I take it they’re not necessarily law-abiding citizens.”

Bull taped the last of the bandages down and leaned back. “Laws are funny things. Every country has their own set of shit that works for them and that doesn’t. Nothing for you to worry about. All you need to know is that we’re good at getting out of bad situations.” Dorian looked pale, but not afraid, which was good enough. “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough.” His eyes shifted down and away. Lying, then. But when he stood, he was mostly steady on his feet. 

Stitches called breakfast from the kitchen and Bull had a hand ready to catch Dorian if he wavered, but his steps were firm as he made his way through. Eggs and toast, a pile of bacon and juice sat on the table and most everyone was already eating. There were chairs empty for the two of them and Bull sat, watched Dorian take a small scoop of eggs and a slice of toast and drink down a tall glass of water in one go.

“So, Altus. What kind of shit, exactly, are you in?” Krem shoved a slice of bacon in his mouth, his face placid as he chewed. 

Next to him, Dorian froze. He jerked his gaze around the table, and then pushed his plate back. Bull thought he would have pulled his legs up, knees to his chest, if he had been just a little more comfortable in their presence. As it was, he clung to his façade. “My father and I don’t hold to the same ideals on a number of issues. He thought it best to find a way to make me more malleable to his cause.”

Krem snorted. “You want to try that again, a little more plainly this time?”

Dorian’s fingers curled around his empty cup until his hands were pale and almost bloodless. “He was going to use blood magic to summon a demon to possess me. That’s what the glyph is for, some kind of compact about the duration of possession. I go away, locked in a screaming hell while a demon runs around with my face, doing as my father pleases.”

Bull was at war with himself between wanting to reach out and comfort Dorian and also put some space between them. “Are you in danger of possession now?”

“No more than usual.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, big guy.”

Dorian tilted a half smile in his direction. “I am myself and not in any immediate danger.”

It was Dalish who leaned in and asked the question they needed to know. “How far did he get with the spell?”

“Far enough.” He picked at the edge of the bandage against his left wrist, seemed to realize he was still under their attention and stopped. “There’s a lingering,” he stopped and shook his head. “Something at the back of my mind. I imagine it will be thus until the contract runs out. I am not possessed,” he said, his voice firm and clear. “I’m not. But there is a connection, of a sort.”

“S’why you’re still bleeding and sick looking.” Stitches gestured with a knife

“Yes. I need time and materials to research how to break the connection. But I can’t do it on the run, and I can’t do it in the hands of my father.” He spread his hands flat on the table. “I know it’s a great deal to ask, but I need help.” 

Bull looked to the Chargers. They’d do as he said, but he liked their input before heading off into danger.

Grim shrugged and Rocky shook his head. Dalish’s response was a flat no, but both Skinner and Stitches surprised him with a yes. Krem sat with his arms crossed over his chest, a flat look directed at Dorian. He shook his head, but spoke. “I don’t like it, Chief. But it looks like we’re already in it.

“Okay, new plan. I’ll stay here with Dorian and work on getting him out while the rest of you break speed limits getting to Garrin. Then I want you to head on out to Skyhold. They don’t have an extradition treaty with Tevinter and Eve can keep you safe.

“The two of you aren’t going to be an unremarkable pair, Chief.”

Bull shrugged. People were always willing to overlook things that didn’t fit into their idea of the world. It served him well on more than one occasion. He’d shave, work on his best ‘aw, shucks’ routine and even the most suspicious grandma wouldn’t suspect him. “Easier than dragging all eight of us across country in two stolen cars.” 

“It’s a good point.” Stitches stood and took his plate to the sink. “I’ll load you up with supplies for his wounds. The faster you can join us in Skyhold, the better, though.”

They went over the details of their impending split as they finished breakfast. Krem insisted on establishing alternate rendezvous points and coded phrases for communication. He radiated worry, but didn’t try to dissuade Bull or insist on coming along. Instead, he urged Dorian to eat and when his plate was clear, he looked at him with a critical eye.

“That mustache has to go.”

Dorian’s hand flew to his face and covered his mustache. “No.”

“You have to admit, it’s a pretty distinguishing characteristic.” Krem pulled Dorian up and guided him toward the bathroom. “Come on. We’ll do something about your hair, too.”

Grim grunted at him once they were gone and Bull shook his head. “I don’t know. Demons, blood magic, _demons_.” It was everything that he hated, but he was in too deep to turn away. 

*

Half an hour later, Dorian emerged from the bathroom with a clean shaven face. Bull whistled. “How old are you?” He looked like a baby, an infant who shouldn’t have been left on his own. Krem had also taken the razor to parts of Dorian’s hair. Instead of the gradual taper, the sides of his head were as clean shaven as his face, accentuating his cheekbones even more.

“Almost thirty.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re twelve.” And less like the pictures circulating on television and online. It would help them a little. 

Dorian kept touching his face, like he couldn’t believe that his mustache was actually gone. “Do you know how long it took me to grow it?”

Bull shrugged. It was just hair. “Not much else to do this morning. Why don’t you go get some rest. I’ll see the boys off.”

Krem was almost gleeful as Dorian walked through to the bedroom in a daze. He turned serious as the door closed. “He’s not going to be much help in a fight if things go badly.”

“All the more reason to have you on the outside. At least someone will know I’m missing and there’s nothing Eve likes better than mounting a rescue.” 

He helped load up the cars. Neither one of them was big enough for him to drive without attracting too much attention. Better to get something that fit him and that could take a little abuse along the way.

“Do you have a plan?”

Bull closed the trunk. “Most of one. Don’t worry. Focus on getting everyone across the border. I’ll have an easier time doing this if I know you’re safe.”

“I don’t like it. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He clapped a hand on Krem’s shoulder, would have pulled him in for a hug if he thought he could get away with it. Krem was too sweet of a guy to really make it in the business, but his loyalty to Bull kept him in the game. If he was a better person, he’d find a way to get Krem out and into something that suited him. But he’d never had a better second, and the whole business ran better with Krem to keep them organized and on task.

He stood in the driveway as his boys took off, watching their dust trails until there was no sign of them at all.

Dorian slept through most of the afternoon which gave Bull plenty of time to plan their next steps. He called a couple of contacts, planned a route and by the time Dorian stumbled out of the bedroom he felt good about their chances. He got Dorian to eat, changed his bandages and explained the plan.

“There’s a house about two miles from here, vacation place that’s empty this time of year. The guy who owns it has a couple cars he stores there so we’ll be able to pick something up.” He spread a map of Tevinter across the table. He hadn’t marked their path, if it fell into the wrong hands, he didn’t want anyone to know where they were going, but he traced the route with his finger. “We’ve got another safe house here,” he tapped Vol Dorma. “I know a guy who can get you fake papers, good enough to get through any crossing in the world. He owes me and can get it done fast. Once we’re set, well head to Perivantium, lay low there until we can get a read on how hard they’re looking for you and then hop across to the Free Marches.” He leaned back. “Once we’re out of Tevinter, it’ll be easier to move around.”

Dorian nodded, but it was hard for Bull to tell if he was agreeing to the plan if it was a non-verbal tick. He seemed jumpier since the rest of the Chargers left. “We leave tonight?”

“I’d rather do it tomorrow night, give you a chance to rest up.”

“You don’t think that puts us at a greater risk?”

Bull folded up the map and tucked it away in his pack. “I think it’s risky no matter how we do this and I’d rather you had your feet under you. Better than carrying you the two miles to the car.”

Inexplicably, Dorian flushed, putting a little color into his dark cheeks. It was a good look on him. “I don’t like the thought of being so close to the city. What if they start searches?” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be ready.”

Bull figured the worst that could happen was that Dorian’s strength gave out and Bull had to carry him back to the safe house. “All right. Try and sleep some more. I’ll pack us up and get you when it’s time to go.”

He spent the rest of the day cleaning up the house, wiping down the surfaces for fingerprints, tidying any sign of occupation. He’d have to do one more run through for prints before they left for good, but anyone who looked through the house would find no sign that they’d been there. Bull packed up the trash, cleared out the fridge and set everything by the door and then went to get Dorian.

In sleep, he looked even younger. His hands twitched in his sleep and his face was pinched in worry. Bull called his name, but he didn’t rouse. He crossed the room and touched his shoulder, noting the fever hot skin. “Dorian. It’s time to go.”

Dorian jerked at his touch, his eyes wide with fear as he pushed himself away from Bull, up against the headboard. Bull backed off, hands held in front of his in a gesture of peace. A moment later, the tension in Dorian’s body eased as he collapsed back onto the bed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal. We should go soon, though, if you think you can make it.”

He nodded and rubbed his hand over his face, pausing as he met no resistance. Instead of another comment about his mustache though, he pushed himself up and off the bed. “I’ll be fine.”

Bull didn’t comment, but sent Dorian through to the kitchen to eat the sandwich he’d set aside as he made the bed and cleared the room. He wiped down all the surfaces and did a quick final sweep of the rest of the house. The kitchen was last and by the time Bull was done, Dorian looked more alert. Bull shouldered his pack, grabbed the trash and led the way through the woods.

While Dorian managed to keep pace for the first half mile, he quickly began to lag behind. Bull slowed his pace, kept to a clear path and still had to stop several times to wait for Dorian to catch up or catch his breath. The last hundred feet Bull kept a steady hand on his shoulder just to make sure he didn’t crash to the ground. 

“I promise I normally have much more stamina than this.”

“I bet,” he said with a wink. It slipped out before he could stop himself and he grimaced in the darkness as Dorian pulled away from him. “We’re nearly there. You’re doing just fine.” He set Dorian against a broad oak as he edged closer to the overgrown lawn, watching for signs of inhabitants. That the lawn was in poor shape was a good sign, but that didn’t mean there weren’t squatters. 

After fifteen minutes, Dorian had his breath back and Bull was certain the house was empty. He crossed to the garage, popped the lock and flicked on the light. “Fuck.” Apparently, the man of the house was in the midst of reviewing his finances because the only vehicle left in the wide, four-car garage was slim, fast looking motorcycle. At least there was a helmet.

Dorian was not nearly as disappointed with the motorcycle as Bull who was thinking about exposure and how Dorian wouldn’t be able to rest and how Dorian who was uncomfortable with Bull’s presence would have to spend the better part of days pressed against him. It added time to their travels for frequent breaks and stops for gas, increasing their chances of getting caught.

“I always wanted a motorcycle.”

Bull laughed. “I would have thought you could have bought just about anything you wanted.”

“My father didn’t approve. He said I’d end up smeared along the highway.” He grabbed the helmet from the back of the bike with a charming level of fierceness. The riding jacket on the wall was a little too big, but it covered him and would protect him from the wind. 

“Well, then, let’s prove him wrong.”


	4. Chapter 4

He ditched their trash in a dumpster on the edge of town and then headed out onto the Imperial Highway. For the first hour or so, Dorian clung to him like he was going to be swept away by a strong wind. It made maneuvering a difficult, worse so because he had no way of communicating with Dorian and tell him that if he relaxed it would be better for both of them. Gradually, tough, Dorian’s seemed to trust that Bull wasn’t going to dump them both on the side of the road. His grip eased and Bull was able to put on a little more speed.

That wasn’t to say that Dorian wasn’t a distraction. With Dorian pressed in so close, his chest against Bull’s back, his arms wrapped around Bull’s waist, it was impossible to miss the heat coming off of Dorian’s skin. As the night wore on and dawn approach, the heat intensified and Dorian’s grip grew weaker. Exactly why he’d wanted a car for their trip across country. 

The bike wasn’t on empty, but it was low enough for a gas stop, He wanted to get some water and food into Dorian. Bull hoped it might perk him up. They were a long way from being done and Bull needed him alert. He pulled into a gas station that was across from a fast food joint and helped Dorian off the bike. 

“I’ll run and grab us breakfast if you fill the tank.”

Dorian flipped up the visor but didn’t remove the helmet. Against the sleek black, his face was pale and his eyes squinted in pain. “I’d like to, but I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how to fill a tank?” He looked at Dorian’s soft hands, and thought about his tailored clothes that had been left behind in the hotel room. “Of course you don’t. All right. Just, here.” He pushed money into Dorian’s hand. “Go tell the cashier you want twenty on pump four and come back. Then we’ll both go over and grab some food.”

“Wait till I come back to start. I want to learn.”

“Sure thing, big guy.” He watched Dorian walk away, a little unsteady, but determined. After a few minutes, the pump lit up with twenty. When Dorian was back at his side, he walked him through the process. “It’s not hard, you just have to know the steps. I thought you said you wanted a bike?”

“Wanted one, yes. But you’ll also recall I was never allowed to have one. The town cars had drivers and if I wanted to take something out, they were always filled and ready to go. I never had to worry about it.”

Twenty didn’t quite fill the bike, but it was close enough. He got them across the street, ordered two bags of food and a couple bottles of water and then parked the bike on the far side of the parking lot. He leaned forward over the handlebars so Dorian could turn around and rest his back against Bull’s.

“Eat as much as you can. Drink all of the water. I don’t want to have to stop again unless we need gas.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Too bad.” He killed one of his own breakfast sandwiches in two bites. “Got to keep your strength up.

“I’m pretty sure this kind of food will kill you.”

Bull shrugged, mindful of Dorian’s weight on his shoulders. “Not right away. What, you had a personal chef growing up?” The silence stretched and Bull laughed. When Dorian tensed up behind him and said nothing, Bull let his laugh die away. “Must be rough having to run like this.”

“It’s certainly not how I imagined I’d be spending the week, no.” He sounded wistful, sad almost. It was hard to read him without seeing his face, but he projected a lot with his voice and the shift of his muscles against Bull’s back.

“Big plans?”

“It, it’s my birthday on Friday. There was going to be a party and Father had an announcement planned.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it, only bitterness. “Easier to see his purpose, now. If the ritual had worked, he could have presented his perfectly obedient son to the masses, ready to fulfil his legacy. He probably planned to announce my engagement as well.”

There’s something there. Something more than anger at having his life arranged, or at his father’s use of blood magic. “Oh?”

“He’s been dying to marry me off for years. He and mother were married and I was already at my first circle by the time Halward was my age.”

“And he couldn’t find anyone you thought was a good match?”

There was a rustle of paper. “No.” Dorian stood and when Bull turned, his face was a blank slate. “I can’t eat anymore.” He thrust the bag into Bull’s waiting hands. It was still heavy, but he could see Dorian made an effort. “I’m going to use the restroom before we go.”

Bull watched him leave, his spine straight, shoulders back. The walk of a man heading off to confront an enemy, not a bathroom. Definitely something there.

*

They made good time after breakfast. The roads were clear and Bull had to give Tevinter credit where it was due: the Imperial Highway was in excellent shape. Where huge swaths of it had fallen into disrepair in other parts of Thedas, the parts still in the Imperium were smooth, free of potholes and well-marked.

The heat of Dorian’s fever eased as the sun rose and when they made their next stop for gas, he was steadier on his feet, and handled the transaction and the pump with ease. “I’m a quick learner,” was all he said, but there was a grin spread across his face to light up a skyline.

He checked for messages while Dorian ran the pump, and ate one of the sandwiches from breakfast. The Chargers were making good time across Tevinter. Krem also let him know that they stopped to stock the safe house so he and Dorian could roll in. He was such a mother hen, sometimes. 

As the sun started to sink Dorian’s grip around Bull’s waist weakened, as his body heated up. They were still a couple hours out from Vol Dorma and he was reluctant to try their luck checking in to a motel. Even the seedy ones wanted credit cards for a check in. 

He stopped for gas, not because they really needed it, but to give Dorian a break. He took care of the pump and let Dorian rest against the bike. When he was finished, he tapped at Dorian’s helmet. “We’ve got about two hours till we hit the safe house. You going to make it?”

Dorian finished his bottle of water and handed it over with a trembling hand. “I think so.”

Bull studied him for a moment and then nodded. “All right. But if you need me to stop, you tap me two times,” he demonstrated two quick taps against Dorian’s chest. “And I’ll pull over. Got it?”

A weary nod was his only response. 

Traffic blew his timeline and it was full dark and they were still on the road. Dorian’s arms on his waist had changed over to a desperate grip. Eventually, he stopped trying to hold up his head and rested it between Bull’s shoulder blades. Once they were off the highway, Bull asked over his shoulder if Dorian needed to stop, but Dorian only shook his head.

When they arrived at the safe house, Bull could feel the ache of a day spent driving and Dorian was dead on his feet. Bull helped him remove the helmet and get inside. Once inside, Dorian collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes.

“Oh, no. You’ve got to eat, and shower and change your bandages. Then you can sleep.” Bull figured that once Dorian dropped off, there wasn’t much that was going to wake him up again. 

Dorian whined but opened his eyes. With his hair flat from the helmet and his missing mustache, he looked young and lost and Bull was overwhelmed with the desire to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe. It was an absurd urge, probably the product of spending too much time with Krem. Blankets didn’t keep people safe. Running them across the borders of a country that wanted to use blood magic on them did. 

“If I leave you here, are you going to go to sleep?”

Dorian shook his head, but they both read the lie. He heaved himself up from the couch and followed Bull into the kitchen to collapse in a chair next to the sink. Bull handed him some water and then dug through the fridge to see what Krem left them. Too tired to cook, he threw together sandwiches, tossed Dorian an apple he almost dropped and tore into a bag of chips. Fake cheese flavored—his favorite.

While Bull dug into the food like he’d never eaten, Dorian made only a half-hearted attempt to eat. They finished near the same time, Bull because he devoured the food, Dorian because he picked. “All right. Shower, bandages, bed. You can sleep as long as you want. I need to see a guy about your papers here, so we’ll take the day to rest. You going to be all right in the bathroom?”

Dorian picked his head up, his eyes drifting over Bull’s face and chest before jerking back to his face. A dull flush worked its way through Dorian’s cheeks as he blew out a breath. “I can handle myself, thank you.”

“I bet you can,” he grinned. “You just shout if you want my help.” It was wrong, probably, to check out Dorian’s ass as he walked to the shower, or think about him fisting his cock under the hot spray. Humans could be so fussy about sex and boundaries. They wanted things, but pretended they didn’t want them. Sometimes they pretended so hard they convinced themselves that there was no want in the first place. Bull made it his business to stay away from people like that, feelings usually got hurt and he didn’t want to be the cause of that. But it was hard when he was tangled up in the same space with the person. 

He shook his head as he stood and cleaned up their dishes. Dorian took long enough that he had time to send a text to Varric and arrange for a meet the following day. Early afternoon, time enough to sleep and check in on how the news was running and make some contingency plans. 

“Did you leave any hot water?” he asked when Dorian finally emerged. All of his exposed skin was flushed from the heat of the bathroom and it was a good look on him. The angry looking glyph and twin wounds were less so.

“Give it half an hour before you try to get in,” he said, unrepentant, but drooping. 

He let Dorian get settled on the edge of the bed in the first floor bedroom before he went over to take a look at the damage. For a full day on the road and whatever weird shit his dad did to him, they actually looked a little better than when Bull had seen them last. The cuts are at least closed over and the glyph wasn’t hot to the touch anymore. “You did good today.”

Dorian looked at him in surprise. “I clung to you while you did all the hard work. I hardly think that qualifies as good.”

“You learned how to pump gas, you learned how to ride on the back of a bike, you ate some—even though I know you didn’t want to, and you didn’t fall off. That’s a good day in my book.”

“You should read better books.”

Bull finished with Dorian’s arms and then moved on to spread the cream left to him by Stitches into the glyph. “Nah, I like small victories and happy endings.”

“Is that where you think this is headed? A happy ending?” There was no bite to his question, just tiredness and maybe a little longing.

“Maybe not right away, but yeah, sure, why not?”

Dorian hummed and looked away. “It will scar, won’t it?”

Stitches was good with his medicine and his care, but magic could do a whole other level of shit on a body. “Probably, yeah.”

Bull tried to get him to talk, but Dorian didn’t seem to have much energy after that. He let Bull finish patching him up and then crawled under the covers. 

“I’ll be out in the other room in you need me.”

Dorian waved a hand at him in response and then between one breath and the next was asleep, out hard. 

Bull called Krem on his way back out into the living room. “What’s news?”

“We made good time. We’ll hit the border in the afternoon. Should be over in the Free Marches by dinner. How’d you make out? And please tell me that’s not what literally happened. ” 

Bull sighed and collapsed onto the couch. It was old and worn, but still comfortable. He leaned over to work at the laces of his boots while he answered. “I’m hurt by that. You know how seriously I take a job.”

“A job, yeah. But that Altus isn’t paying you. And you could hardly keep your eyes off his ass. So, I’d say it’s a valid concern.”

“I’ve been nothing but a gentleman. I don’t think he could handle much else, anyway. It’s a good thing we’ve got to wait for Varric because he wouldn’t make another day on the road like today. Had to get a motorcycle so he’s not exactly resting.”

Krem laughed. “And I’m sure you’re real sad he’s got his dick pressed up against you all day.”

Bull kicked off his boots and leaned back. “Like you said. I’m not getting paid. Might as well take the perks where I can get them.” 

His laughter faded and Krem drew in a breath. “Be careful, Chief. I know you want to help him and he seems like he might be an okay guy. But Alti aren’t like regular people. They have everything gifted to them from the second they’re born. If his back gets put up against a wall, I don’t think he’d hesitate to throw you in front of him to save himself.”

Bull thought about Dorian’s smile when he pumped the gas, or how his hands tightened around Bull’s waist when his energy flagged. He thought of the way Dorian dutifully ate, even though he clearly didn’t want to. There was a man who wanted to be good enough, not the one who would push others down to keep himself safe. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Which is Chief-speak for ‘go fuck yourself’. I get it; I’m not telling you want to do, just be careful.” 

“Aw, Krem,” he rubbed at his sore knee and considered the stairs to the second bedroom. The couch, he decided, was comfy enough. “Where’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am desperately in love with the idea of rich!Dorian not knowing how to do stuff that a lot of other people tackle at a much younger age. 
> 
> I also love Krem trying to be the voice of reason when he knows, _he knows_ that Bull will do whatever he wants anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian was still sleeping when Bull was due for his meeting with Varric, so Bull decided to leave him behind. He left a note on the kitchen table, locked the house up tight and then headed out. It was luck that Varric was even in Tevinter to help them out. He was usually based out of Kirkwall, but he’d been in the Empire for a couple months working on something for his brother.

“Tiny!” Varric met him in the waiting room of his office with a grin and a handshake, probably the most enthusiastic greeting Bull’d gotten since crossing the border. “Never thought I’d run into you here.”

“I’d say the same, but I’m never surprised where you turn up.”

Varric shrugged and led him back to a closed off area and the smile slid from his face. “You’re in some shit here, my friend.”

Bull knew. He’d watched the news that morning. Though the Tevinter police didn’t have his name yet, they had a good likeness of him. Only the general ignorance of local ‘Vints worked in his favor. Qunari really didn’t all look alike, but humans had a hard time telling them apart. “It’s been a week.”

“I know how that goes. Is it true? Did you kidnap the scion of House Pavus?”

Bull rocked a hand back and forth. “Kidnap is a strong word.”

Varric let out a low whistle as he dropped into a seat behind his desk. “Magister Pavus is no one to mess with. He’ll turn this entire country upside down to get his kid back. They’re saying there was blood magic involved. Are you sure that’s the kind of thing you want to get involved with?”

“There’s a little more going on than what’s being spread in the press.” Maybe there was a softness to his face or his voice that gave him away. Varric was one of the most perceptive people Bull knew and he should have been more careful around him.

“Aw, no. No, Tiny. Tell me he is not another one of your sad-story runaways.”

Bull looked away. “It’s not like I have a collection.”

“I have met the Chargers. You absolutely have a collection. Doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty, I’m sure.” He held his hands up as if to frame Bull in a shot. “I can picture it now. The lonely Altus, swept away by the dashing mercenary, into a life of crime and passion.” He dug out a notebook and jotted down a few lines. “He breaks laws, but can the Altus trust him not to break his heart?”

“Hey, now. We’re a legitimate company.”

Varric’s eyes narrowed and he hummed. “A trained killer with a heart of gold, what will he do when the mage puts a spell on him?”

Bull grunted. “That’s not as good.”

Varric wrote down a few more lines. “Great fiction takes a strange path.” He tucked the paper into a drawer and turned serious. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I need papers to get him over the border. He had nothing when he left, and even if he did, wandering through customs with his own name is going to get us caught real quick.”

A long sigh escaped Varric and he leaned back. “I can get you the papers. I can even rush it and have then to you tomorrow, but you’re still not going to be able to get him through customs. He has something of a memorable face and it’s currently plastered all over every TV station in Tevinter. Not to mention he was well known before this happened.”

Someday, he was going to make it through an afternoon without having people tell him what he couldn’t do. “Just get me the papers. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Varric held up his hands in surrender. “Do you have a current picture, or you want me to use one of his paparazzi shots?”

Bull pulled up a website on his phone. Dorian had a dedicated fanbase that kept track of his fashion and style and had a number of candid photos. He scrolled through until he found the one he wanted and then handed the phone over. “Use that one, get someone to edit out the mustache and change the hair to something a little shorter.”

Though he took the phone, Varric did not let the moment pass without comment. “A lovestruck fan is swept up in a modern day fairy tale as he falls for his idol in disguise.”

“It’s no wonder Bartrand sent you halfway across the world.”

Varric laughed and handed back his phone. “Who says I didn’t come this far to get away from him?”

*

The house was still locked up when Bull got back, quiet too. He did a quick sweep to set his mind at ease and then went in to check on Dorian. He was awake, but sitting in the middle of his bed with his eyes closed. There was a faint green aura around him and the air in the room felt weird.

He knocked on the door and Dorian jumped, the light blinking out in time with the feeling. “You all right?”

“I’d be better if you didn’t try to scare the life out of me. How can you move so silently?”

It wasn’t the time to delve into his personal history. He didn’t think Dorian would feel more comfortable with Bull if he knew where he picked up his skills and how he was still, technically, working for the Qun. That reminded him he had a report to write. He could put it off for a few more days, but he’d have to send them something about the Tevinter mess. “How come you were all glowy?” He didn’t shift or reach for a weapon, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready. “Demon problems?”

Dorian shook his head and stretched his arms up and above him, stretching his shirt to reveal a well-defined set of abs. “No. I was trying to heal myself, but it’s not really my field.” He frowned at Bull. “I’m not about to be possessed. I’ll be sure to let you know should that become a danger.”

“What is your field?”

He looked better after a full night of sleep, and cagey at the question. “Most people outside the Empire and quite a few inside it don’t like the answer.” Maybe he wasn’t any good at healing, but he seemed to have done himself some kind of good. When he stood from the bed, he was steady on his feet and there was a little bit of a bounce to his step. 

“Aw, now you have to tell me. What, you poke at dead things?”

Silence greeted him with Dorian’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Necromancy is an ancient and respected art.”

“Involving dead things.” He’d been in a couple of fights with the things a necromancer raised. It was unnatural and gross. Bull wasn’t naturally squeamish, but he liked his dead things to stay that way. 

“I’m adept with fire as well.”

“Good to know you can burn out your mistakes, I guess.” He didn’t want to think about Dorian and corpses. “You want me to change your bandages before or after you eat?”

Dorian brushed his hands over his arms. “That won’t be necessary. I took care of it while you were out.”

“Okay. You hungry?”

He pushed past Bull and out toward the kitchen. “I imagine you’ll make me eat regardless.” There was an edge to his voice and his posture that Bull figured was more like his usual self. He liked it. 

“Good guess.” He grinned as Dorian sat at the table, waiting to be served. Bull could tell he didn’t even think about it, that it was ingrained from a lifetime of having others serve him. Bull snapped his fingers at him. “You’re feeling better, you can help.” He handed Dorian some vegetables to wash and peal while he pulled put on the rice to cook. 

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be much of a cook.” Dorian frowned after he spoke and looked away. “Sorry, that was unkind.”

Bull shrugged. He’d heard worse. “I need a lot of food to keep going.” He could have spent his life eating pre-packaged stuff, or ordering take out, but there was a time when he didn’t like not knowing who was touching his food and what went into it. He wasn’t as paranoid as he was when he first left Seheron, but he’d picked up enough skills along the way that he didn’t mind cooking. And he certainly didn’t mind feeding pretty ‘Vints. 

He set the meat to marinate and then started chopping the vegetables into thin stalks. “You ever watched anyone cook before?” Dorian was done with his job, but instead of returning to his seat, he hovered near Bull’s shoulder—out of knife range, but still close. 

“There is a restaurant where they do the cooking at the table. I have a feeling that’s not what you meant, though. No. The kitchens were the purview of the servants. Mother never set foot in them and Father almost never.” He sounded stiff, like he was waiting to be mocked.

Bull shifted over to give Dorian more room. “You want to watch?”

“I don’t want to get in your way.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He picked his next vegetable and started slicing, slowing his knife-work to a much slower rate. “You always want to use a sharp knife. Lots of people think a dull knife is going to save them in case something goes wrong. Truth is, a sharp knife keeps things from going wrong.” He walked Dorian through the whole process, checking the rice, what he did to the meat. When he got the pan ready, he showed Dorian how he knew the oil is hot enough. When it was finished he let Dorian serve it all up and they settled at the table. 

Dorian took a few bites and complimented his work, but got quieter and quieter as the meal wore on. When Bull finished, Dorian pushed his plate back, half full still, and looked at Bull like he was facing his doom. “I don’t have money to pay you.”

“I know.”

“Even if we get out of Tevinter, it’s unlikely I’ll ever have access to my family’s wealth.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know where Dorian was going, but he didn’t love the way he clenched his jaw in between sentences.

“If you intend to take payment out of me in another way, I’d prefer you get it over with. The waiting is, frankly, exhausting.”

“Take payment.” That was so much worse than Varric’s pulp novel nonsense. “You think. Yeah, okay. The only people I take to my bed are the ones who want to be there. And I only tie up the ones who _ask_ for it.”

Dorian let out a long breath and turned his head away, but not before Bull caught a dull flush and the widening of Dorian’s pupils. “Okay.”

“Okay. You gonna eat that?”

Dorian shook his head, still turned to the side, so Bull snagged his plate and finished off his serving. For his part, Dorian had the look of a man wrestling with his own mind and Bull let him be. 

As Bull finished the second plate, Dorian folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I don’t understand what you gain by helping me.”

Ah, ‘Vints. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t go over well to tell Dorian he didn’t gain anything but a good feeling. Didn’t think Dorian would appreciate a lie, either. “There’s nothing to gain. I get to help you out of a tough situation. Everybody needs help.”

“So you just go around helping the helpless without regard to payment.” He sounded unimpressed and Bull couldn’t tell if it was because he thought Bull was too soft-hearted or had a bad business plan.

“Course I like it better when people can pay. But we make enough doing contract work that it doesn’t matter so much to have the occasional charity case.”

Dorian slumped forward. “I didn’t think I’ve ever be described as a charity case.”

Bull dropped a hand on Dorian’s shoulder and squeezed. “Could be worse, big guy.”

“Yeah?”

It was probably better not to get into the specifics. “It could always be worse.” He stood and collected the dishes. “Want to learn how to wash dishes?”

The disgusted curl of Dorian’s lip said no, but he stood and joined Bull at the sink anyway.

*

Late in the afternoon, Bull had cataloged every usable item in the house and was beginning to wish that he’d picked up a book from Varric to pass the time. Dorian was holed up in his room trying to commune with his demon connection or whatever and there was only so much news Bull could take. They were narrowing down on his identity and the Chargers. By the time Varric came through with the papers, there was a good chance it would be too late.

His phone rang. “What’s the good news, Krem?” 

There was a pause. “Sorry, Chief. We made it here in one piece, that’s about the best I’ve got for you. The borders are closed. They’re not letting anyone through. Even if you get papers for you boy, there’s no way you’re getting him across to the Free Marches. I don’t know how _we’re_ getting across.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is unreasonable for me to think my cold should be gone after two days, but that's where I am. I can't breath properly and I'm clearing out tissues like they've done me a disservice, so it's hard to tell how this chapter turned out. Late, for sure, but I think okay? Hopefully the next update will be more on the ball.


	6. Chapter 6

Bull stayed on the phone with Krem for another half hour, hashing out a new plan. “Is this the new, new plan or the new, new, new plan?” Krem asked and Bull couldn’t really argue the point. The longer they stayed on the run in Tevinter, the crankier Bull expected Krem to get. And it wasn’t like they _weren’t_ blowing through ideas faster than they could come up with them.

They agreed to meet up in Vyrantium where they would work on getting a boat. It wasn’t great, as far as ideas went; if the borders were being watched, the harbors would be monitored as well. It was better than sitting and waiting to get caught. There was a dark, irritating little bug in the back of his mind where Bull was starting to consider that they might not make it out of Tevinter at all. 

He spent a sleepless night sending out careful queries to any contact he could think of that might be able to help. Most of the people he knew didn’t work out of Tevinter. If they could get out of the country, he’d have a lot more options. Inside the borders, though, it was a little grim. Varric was about the only person he trusted not to give them over.

He cooked out his worry over breakfast. More food than the two of them could eat. Probably more food than three or four people could eat, but it was something to focus on other than worry and if he cooked enough things, maybe he could get Dorian to eat some of them.

As he was plating up the last of the pancakes—Skinner’s favorite—Dorian wandered out in his sleep clothes, his hair rumpled and lines imprinted on his skin from the sheets. Considering their previous conversation and Dorian’s expectations about Bull’s need for payment, it felt wrong to ogle him a little, but he was very pretty. 

“Hey, big guy. Hungry?”

Dorian slumped against the table as he sat, his face in his hands. “Is there coffee?”

“Coffee’s not food, but if you eat, you can have some.”

“You know,” Dorian peered up at him with a frown, “I don’t think even my nannies were this concerned with my eating habits and they were paid quite well by my parents to make certain I grew this tall and beautiful.” Bull could tell he said it out of habit, that he wasn’t really flirting.

Bull, on the other hand, “Did a good job, too.”

Dorian looked away, and while he didn’t flush, Bull could tell it was because Dorian fought it. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. You said something about coffee?”

Seeing Dorian hunched in on himself killed any urge to push him further. Instead, he slid a mug in front of him and then added a plate loaded with food. Bull served himself and sat across from Dorian, noting with pleasure that Dorian ate more than picked.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked as he dug in to the pancakes. 

“Varric said he’d have your ID ready this afternoon. I’ll go pick it up and then we can head out. Waiting’s not a good idea. The borders are closed and we’re regrouping in Vyrantium with the boys to ferry our way out.”

Dorian drained half his cup of coffee and sat back. “If the borders are closed, the harbors are going to be just as closely guarded.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s the kind of thing I need to see for myself. We might be able to work it out once we get there. Don’t give up, yet.”

“What if you had a plane?”

Bull shook his head. “Air space is going to be worse than the harbors. I wouldn’t get within ten miles of a commercial flight with you.” He shoved a sausage in his mouth and chewed through most of it. “They can’t keep the borders closed forever, they’ll need to move product through and the people will start getting pissed. If we have to, we can lay low and wait it out.”

“I’m not talking about a commercial flight. Something private, big enough for you and your crew.” He looked cagey, like he wasn’t sure of his own offer.

“I can’t fly. I think Grim might have some experience, but not enough to fly us out of a country that’s watching its airspace for its missing son. And I’m not willing to risk it on a pilot I don’t know.”

Dorian frowned at Bull’s choice of words and pushed away his plate. “I can fly.”

“Wait. You can’t drive a car, or pump your own gas, but you can fly a fucking plane?”

He straightened his spine and went for a look that was supposed to be aloof, but was a little too needy to pull off. “It’s all about priorities. There’s no challenge in driving a car. Piloting a plane, however, is quite the conversation starter.”

If they could somehow make it work, it would solve a lot of their issues. They could also end up shot down over the Nocen Sea, which was not how Bull wanted to spend his summer. “I feel like your family jet would be pretty well locked up.”

“Ah, but we wouldn’t be using my family jet. I have a friend.” He paused and drew a breath. “Had a friend. He’s the one who taught me to fly. His hanger is in Marothius.”

“Nice.” It was close to the border, and the higher elevation meant less people. There was still a good bit of Tevinter to fly over, but it wasn’t the worst plan. He shoveled down the rest of his breakfast and stood. “You take care of dishes and wiping this place down. I’ll go grab your ID and let the boys know about the change of plans.”

Varric did quality work. Even knowing that the ID was fake, Bull couldn’t tell the difference. He passed on the warning about the closed borders for free, and then dropped Bull a tip on a motel that was on the way toward their destination, the kind that took cash and didn’t ask questions. Varric was good people. When he called Krem to update him on their newest change of plans, he asked Krem to remind him to send out a fruit basket in thanks when they landed somewhere safe. 

Not only did Dorian do a good job cleaning out all the signs of their occupation, but when they started out on the road, he was more at ease on the bike. Maybe it was because he was feeling better, or maybe it had something to do with their sense of purpose, but he held onto Bull a little easier and Bull felt like he had a partner instead of a passenger. Their stops were more efficient, since they could split the tasks—Dorian on gas, Bull on snacks—and by the time dusk rolled around and Bull was feeling the tension in his back and shoulders from a long day driving, he felt good about their progress.

Which was why it was such a surprise when Dorian stepped off the bike and then collapsed in the parking lot of the motel. Bull caught him before he hit the ground, but Dorian was limp in his arms and washed out. His eyes were rolled back in his head, just the milky whites showing. Under Bull’s hands, he could feel a low level of _something_ humming, magic maybe. 

“Shit, kid. You couldn’t wait until we were inside a room?” There was no one in the parking lot to comment on their situation, but Bull figured even the most tight-lipped owner might have something to say about a Qunari dragging an unconscious guy through the lobby. He swore again and then propped Dorian up in a sitting position against the bike. Bull needed to be fast at check, so he could get back to Dorian before anyone who noticed him thought he was doing something other than resting. 

The guy behind the counter was a dwarf who smelled half drunk and didn’t look up from his crossword puzzle as Bull checked in. “One fifty for the night, extra fifty for towels and blankets.”

Bull shoved money at him, two hundred total, and didn’t complain. He was paying for silence, not charm or comfort.

The dwarf blindly grabbed a key off a row behind him and pushed it across the counter. “Dial 1 on the phone for noise complaints or problems with the toilet.”

“Thanks.” Bull grabbed the key and hurried out, relieved to find Dorian where he left him. He was still unconscious, but didn’t seem any worse. When Bull hauled Dorian up into his arms, he felt it in the ache of his knee as he carried him to the room at the end of the row. The key slid into the lock like it would fit into any lock in the motel and the room smelled of bleach and cleaning magic. There were stains on the carpet Bull took care to avoid, but it had a deadbolt and running water.

He spread out the blankets out on the bed, laid Dorian out and got him out of his shoes and helmet. Then he called Dalish. 

She listened to the symptoms and made a sympathetic sound. “That sounds, not good. But I don’t know what you want from me.”

Bull took a long, slow breath and didn’t shout. “Now isn’t the time for your ‘I don’t do magic’ play.”

“I’m not playing, Chief. Everything I know about,” she paused for just a second, “what I do is self-taught. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and if I did, I probably wouldn’t know how to fix it.”

“Put Stitches on the phone.” He went over the symptoms again. Stitches had him check Dorian’s temperature and look at his eyes again. Bull attempted to describe the feeling of magic emanating from Dorian’s skin, but it was hard over the phone.

“Yeah, you got me on this one, Boss. Keep his temperature down, cool cloths to the forehead, neck and wrists. Keep him comfortable. It sounds magic related. Krem’s making calls right now to see if we’ve got anyone near you who can help.”

He watched Dorian’s fitful form and considered his options. The magic thrumming beneath Dorian’s skin was unsettling and seemed like the kind of thing that needed the most attention, but Bull had no way of dealing with it. The fever, though, that he could handle. He went to the small bathroom and filled the ice bucket with cold water and returned to Dorian’s side. Stitches’ instructions were easy enough to follow and then there was nothing to do but wait. He dragged a chair from the little desk to the bedside, kicked his feet up on the bed and sat vigil.

For hours there was no change. Bull tended the damp cloth to help with the fever, but nothing happened. Dorian didn’t stir at his touch and any movement he did make seemed to be centered on something Bull couldn’t see. His lips moved in his sleep, but no words emerged. Occasionally, his hands twitched, the way Dalish’s did when she was casting, but no magic filled the room. 

Bull rested in the half-sleep of the night watch. He was still aware of what was happening in the room, but he let his mind wander and relax. When Dorian gasped, Bull was up and at his side in a moment. In the low light of the room, his face was flushed and his eyes wild, but they focused on Bull for the first time in hours.

“Bull?”

“I’m here, big guy. Are you?”

Dorian turned away, lines of pain marring his face. “I think,” he gasped again. “I think he’s trying to complete the ritual without me.”

Bull felt for the knife at his belt and the gun holstered at his side. “But you’re fighting it?”

“Yes.” His hands tightened into fists in the blankets. “Yes.”

“What do you need?”

His eyes closed and for a moment, Bull thought he was unconscious again, but he stirred and reached for Bull. “I’m cold.”

“That’s the fever.” He took the cloth from Dorian’s forehead and dipped it in the cool water. When he replaced it, Dorian’s skin felt hotter than before, and dry. 

“I hate being cold.” He swallowed hard. Bull thought he was biting back a groan of pain. 

“I’ve got some bad news for you about the south, then. Nothing but cold weather half the year.” He tucked the blanket around him, but Dorian was still shivering, still muttering about the cold, until his voice trailed off and he was limp again. 

“Please don’t turn on me, kid. I really, really don’t want to have to kill you.” He sighed, put his knife, gun, and back up gun on the bedside table and moved onto the bed with Dorian. Maybe his body heat and the feeling of another person would give him what he needed to make it through the night. 

*

Bull’s phone, not Dorian consumed by a demon, woke Bull in the morning. Dorian was still sleeping against him, curled around Bull and eating up his body heat. He was less restless and the line between his brows had faded during the night. He was still warm to the touch, though.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Chief. You remember Madame de Fer? We ran that job for her last summer.”

Tall, gorgeous, domineering. Yeah, he remembered. “Go on.”

“She’s willing to come take a look, if you want a mage involved. She’s a powerhouse, too, so if something needs to be done, she can handle it.”

Dorian shifted against his side, but it was the movement of sleep and not unconsciousness. “Let’s hold off on that. How fast can she meet us?”

“She’s a couple hours out. If you think you’re good to travel, you could swing by her on your way to us, let her check things out.”

At his side, Dorian stretched and blinked sleepily at him. “Yeah, let me see how we’re doing here. I’ll call you back.” He lowered his voice. “Dorian? It just you in there?”

Dorian dropped his head back down and tightened his hold on Bull. “Yeah.” Another yawn and he rolled onto his back with a groan. “It’s just me.

“You sure?”

He winced and ran his hand over his face. “I don’t think I’d feel this bad if it took over.” He stopped and seemed to realize for the first time they were in bed together. “I remember being cold?”

“I couldn’t do much to help, but the boys tell me I’m a reliable source of heat.” He poked Dorian’s shoulder: friendly, funny, nothing weird. And then his mouth ruined it for them both. “Not like it’s a hardship, having such a pretty face in my bed.”

Dorian stiffened right up and rolled into a sitting position, his back to Bull.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s all right.” But he didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, Dorian pushed himself up and when that seemed to hold, he took a tentative step. “I’m going to shower.”

With a door closed between them, Bull let out a long sigh. Just when he thought they were making progress, Dorian closed right back up. Sometimes, Dorian seemed okay with their interactions, but when Bull got comfortable and started treating him like one of the boys, it got weird. Maybe once they met back up with the boys, he’d foist him off on Krem. Krem was great with skittish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the turmoil of the past week and half seems to have died down. Here's hoping that it stays that way!


	7. Chapter 7

Fifteen minutes later, the water shut off and a couple minutes after that, Dorian exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was wearing his pants, but had his shirt off. The wounds on his arms looked better, but the glyph on his chest was angry and swollen, the worst Bull had seen it. He was surprised it wasn’t bleeding.

Dorian met Bull’s gaze and then looked away. “Can you help me with this,” he gestured to his chest. “I can’t touch it.”

“Sure.” He grabbed Stitches’ cream from the travel bag and had Dorian sit on the bed. “Why can’t you touch it?” He started at the top, his touch just firm enough to impress the cream into the scar. Dorian still hissed and drew back.

“I don’t know. Some kind of feedback loop, I think. It makes me sick.” He kept his eyes focused on the floor and Bull wondered how long he’d tried to do it himself before asking for help. How long he tried to balance out the pain against asking Bull to touch him. Bull would have sighed if he didn’t think that Dorian would take it personally.

Though he tried to be gentle, and he kept his touch as light as possible, Bull could tell he was causing Dorian pain. Maybe not as much as when Dorian tried to do it himself, but he stayed stiff, his face turned away and closed up. He didn’t make another sound, but collapsed forward when Bull was finished. 

“You going to be okay to ride?” The glyph covered a good portion of Dorian’s chest, the same part that was pressed up against Bull’s back during their drive.

“I can make it.” He was stubborn and looked like he meant it, no matter what it cost him. 

Stubbornness should not be such a good look on anyone. And it was something Bull couldn’t consider when he thought about their next move. He’d thought they should drive straight through to meet the boys at the plane, but Bull didn’t want to risk another collapse if he could help it. “Right. We’re going to make a stop on our way.” He got out his phone and texted Krem for the address to Viv and to ask him to let her know they were coming. 

Dorian shrugged his shirt back on. “It’s lucky you have so many friends.”

“Not as many as I’d like. If we were anywhere else, this would be easier. I’m going to go check us out. You drink some water and meet me at the bike.”

There was a different dwarf at the counter, but no more interested in Bull’s appearance than the one from the night before. She was reading something on her phone and held out her hand for his key without looking up. Once it was on the hook behind her, she slid a folded piece of paper across the counter. There was no writing on the outside, and he thought it was a copy of the bill until he opened it.

_They have your names and current photos_

_V_

“Shit.” It had been a matter of time, he knew that. It didn’t make him feel any better though. He could only imagine the story they were spinning in the news. None of his boys had exactly clean records and Tevinter hated anything that wasn’t scrubbed clean for appearances.

Dorian was waiting by the bike, helmet on and travel pack stowed. He looked steady enough. “We need to make serious time today. You feel sick or faint or like you’re going to drop, you tap me, three times, on the shoulder so I can get the bike over.”

“Has something changed?”

“Well, your dick of a father is trying to take you over by remote and I’ve got my face plastered over every major news channel in the country. So, we need to get this done.”

Dorian lifted a hand, maybe to run through his hair, only to let it fall when he touched the edge of his helmet. “I could turn myself in. Tell them what’s going on.”

“That’s a nice thought, big guy. But no one is going to believe you. You want to tell people the truth, we do it once you’re out of the country and out of the range of your father and your government.” He squeezed Dorian’s shoulder. “Don’t get cold feet on me now. We’re going to get you out of here.”

He nodded. “I think I’ll be all right. The ritual started at sundown. I think he has to wait for that when he wants to try to complete it.”

“We should be somewhere safe before then.” He mounted the bike, waited for Dorian to settle against him and then set off.

The ease of the previous day’s ride was gone. He could tell from the way Dorian’s hands dug into him that he was in a significant amount of pain. Bull tried to keep the line between speed and care, but speed won out for most of the morning. When they stopped for gas, he let Dorian rest while he took care of all of their needs, then shoved some pain killers at him. Bull didn’t know how much good they did, but he felt better for doing it. 

By midafternoon, he turned off the Imperial Highway and wound through a series of broad, quiet boulevards. Dorian’s hold on him tightened as they rounded the last turn according to Bull’s directions and came to a stop before a set of tall, metal gates and a high wall. 

Dorian flipped up his face shield. “What’s this?”

“This is my friend’s place.” Bull cut the engine and rolled the bike to the intercom. “Ma’am should be expecting me,” he said into the tiny speaker. The gates opened and he drove through, up a long, winding driveway to park in front of a house that could conservatively have been called palatial. 

Vivienne was waiting for them on the steps. In immaculate white robes and frown, she looked as good as he remembered. “The Iron Bull. I’d say it was good to see you, dear, but you bring trouble to my door.” 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he shrugged. If she really didn’t want them there, she would have said.

She slid her gaze over Dorian, who stumbled off the bike and pulled off his helmet. “Most of the country is looking for you.” She lifted her chin to call them forward. “Vivienne de Fer. You may address me as Madame de Fer. I can smell the magic coming off of you. Shall we discuss the particulars?”

Bull let Viv lead Dorian into the main house and to a parlor. He lurked outside the door as they talked shop and called Krem.

“Hey, Chief, we’re in the shit now.”

He sighed and tipped his head up. Viv’s house had magnificent ceilings, with bright mosaics that depicted some ancient battle. It was hard to tell who was supposed to be winning but it was pretty to look at. Hard to believe this was a temporary estate and her permanent home was even more spectacular. “You guys doing okay?”

“As well as can be expected when every time we have to stop for gas Skinner gets twitchy enough to draw attention even if everyone wasn’t looking for us. We’ll hit Marothius sometime after nightfall. How far behind are you?”

He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “About a day. It depends on whether Viv can help us out here. Whatever his dad is doing is not good and it might,” he stopped and took a few steps away from the door to the parlor. “I hate demons.”

“And I hate Tevinter. How about the next job we take is somewhere sunny and quiet. I want to go somewhere where pretty girls will bring me drinks with little umbrellas in them while I relax on the beach.”

Bull laughed. “I think that’s called a vacation.”

“Whatever. That’s what I want.” He sighed and there was a quality of exhaustion to his voice that Bull rarely heard. “I’m just really fucking tired of being on the run in Tevinter. Once in a lifetime was enough. Twice is above and beyond, you know?”

“I got you.” He disconnected the call and allowed the feelings of guilt to wash through him and then out. As much as Krem might bitch at him about Tevinter, he agreed to come. There’ve been plenty of jobs over the years where Krem didn’t come along, he always had a choice. It was a shitty set of circumstances and Krem didn’t sign up for a runaway mage. He made his own choices, but Bull could still feel bad for bringing up old hurts. He breathed, deep and even, until he could put thoughts of his boys out of his immediate attention.

Viv clicked her fingers at him. “If you’re done lingering in the hallway, we have some things to discuss.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bull ducked into the room. For as fancy as the place was, it wasn’t meant for Qunari, even bent almost double his horns were in danger of scraping the paint from the walls. 

Dorian was sitting on the most uncomfortable looking couch Bull had ever seen, a frown on his face and his hands clenched at his sides. Not a great introduction between the two of them, then.

“The way I see it, there’s only one sure cure for demon possession.”

Dorian leaned forward. “I’m not possessed.”

“Yes, but that’s only a matter of time, dear. He has your blood and a very powerful glyph tying you to his will. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to make it this far.”

“So we need someone to stop his dad?”

Vivienne sniffed. “You’re more likely to stop the tide. You’re in danger, both of you. It’s only a matter of time before he wins out and turns you. Best cut off that avenue now, while there’s still a chance.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Dorian stood and walked toward Bull. “If I wanted to be made into something I’m not, I could have stayed in Minrathous.”

Bull held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Hey, big guy. I brought us here for options. You don’t like it, we don’t have to do it, but I don’t know what else to do for you. Magic’s not my thing.” As much as he liked to think he had grown as a person, it was hard to go from a life where mages were kept under tight control, collared and bound for the safety of others, to have them walking around with everyone else. Magic made him uneasy and demons scared the shit out of him. He liked it better when someone else was around to deal with it.

“Yes, well, being made Tranquil isn’t my thing, either.”

“It’s not a permanent procedure, you know. Hundreds of years ago it would have been a sentence for life, but we could perform the ritual and when the issue with your father has been resolved it can be reversed.”

Dorian shuddered. “No, thank you.”

Bull didn’t want to push, even though it sounded like a reasonable option. 

Her expression didn’t change, but Bull could feel the frown. “Tell me what else I can do for you, then.”

“If you can’t fix the demon, uh, thing. Maybe healing? And a car if you have one to spare? We’re too exposed on the bike.”

“Or, you know, you could use your influence to help me convince people that my father is using blood magic.” Dorian doesn’t quite sneer, but it’s a close thing.

“Darling, The Bull’s friendship is dear to me, but even I don’t have quite that political capitol. I’m here for business and Orlais is my home. No one is going to take my word over his. It’s madness to try.” Bull didn’t think Dorian saw her regret, but then it took him a long hours spent with her over weeks of work before he started to see the depth of her feelings and how much she kept locked away under a veneer of coldness. “I’d be happy to lend my healing to you, dear. It’s a shame that Bastien isn’t here, or there would be more cars to choose from. He does so love his cars.”

She took a step toward Dorian who backed up. “I think the car will be enough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can hardly manage a Rite of Tranquility on my own. And if I meant you harm, I’m sure your bodyguard would stop me.”

They all knew that while Bull might try, there were better than even odds that Viv would come out on top. “Let her take a look.”

She led him to the couch and a warm green glow enveloped them both. The stiffness in Dorian’s shoulders eased and after a few moments, he closed his eyes and relaxed back into the cushions of the couch. He was asleep by the time she finished.

“Well?”

“I was under the impression you and your company worked to fix messes, not compound them.” She drew a throw from the back of the couch and draped it over Dorian’s sleeping form, tucking the edges with care. “You couldn’t have stumbled into something worse if you intended, I think.”

He shrugged and tried not to feel the tug of protectiveness at seeing Dorian sleep. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

“Be careful with that one. Halward Pavus has worked hard over the years to quell rumors about him, but they thrive despite his best efforts. His pretty face has gotten him into more than one dangerous situation. I would hate to see you hurt once he moves on after all of your help.”

He thought of Dorian wandering on the side of the road during the rainstorm, bleeding and in shock, and again at the table calmly discussing paying out sex for Bull’s assistance. It seemed to him that Dorian was the kind of person who needed help the most, and had never had anyone give him a hand without expecting something in return. “That’s why it’s help and not a contract. He can move on as he wants without expectation.”

Viv made a thoughtful sound. “He’ll sleep for another hour at least. Would you like to come through and see the cars? There must be something that will suit you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Back together with the Chargers. It's better when they're around.


	8. Chapter 8

That Viv’s idea of a scarce included a garage full of cars drove home the point that she and Bastien had a lot of money. The kind of money that was, frankly, ridiculous. Like, imaginary numbers ridiculous. Out of a dozen choices, Bull found a sleek SUV that was big enough to hold him and his horns, with comfy black leather and tinted windows. With two gas tanks and already both filled to go, it meant that they wouldn’t have to stop as often, and were less likely to get caught.

Then she showed him to her pantry. Bull had been in grocery stores that would have been jealous of her shelves. He could have fed the Chargers with their terrifying appetite for months from the larder alone. He started to stock them up for the remainder of the trip while Viv chatted at him in the background. 

“I’ll have the cook make us up a late lunch. I can at least feed you before you head off into danger.” She paused at the edge of the kitchen. “You should consider trying to convince him to change his mind. The magic at work on him is powerful and unstable. Tranquility might be distasteful, but it’s no worse than death.”

Bull thought that sounded a lot like a line from someone who’d never been bound, except he knew the social constraints Viv lived under and the how the southern circles treated their mages. “I’ll talk to him, but I feel like he’s not going to move on that.” And while Bull would have preferred a guarantee of safety where possession was concerned, he couldn’t really blame Dorian.

“Best to make that choice than have it forced on you.” But she didn’t say anything more and instead left Bull to shopping from her larder. 

To say that the idea of Dorian fighting possession each nightfall unsettled him was an easy statement. He hated the thought of sharing space with a thing that was ready to rip him apart. But Dorian had had enough of his choices made for him, enough things taken away. He said he could handle it, he said he didn’t want Tranquility, Bull wasn’t going to argue. But he was going to make sure they were as safe as possible.

Once he had food stored in the back of the SUV, he went to find Viv in her study where she kept her personal store of magical shit. She had a few pieces set out for him to inspect and provided details for the ones he touched.

“That one will mask your presence, of a sort. You won’t be invisible, only unnoticed. The amulet will aid in healing, probably best for Dorian. That ring will boost your strength against demons. It’s a pride demon battling for control over Dorian, so the more elemental choices won’t do you any good.” She handed over everything without fuss. “If anything changes, or you need help, please call. It’s bad for business to have a demon running around with the face of a future Magister. Now, I have some business to attend to if you’d like to go keep Dorian company while he sleeps. I’ll have Brushar fetch you when lunch is ready.”

He was itching to go, but trying to move Viv was like putting his shoulder to a mountain. AN extra hour for lunch and a full stomach wasn’t going to break them. “Ma’am.”

The sitting room was washed with warm sunlight. Dorian was curled on the couch, the blanket still tucked around him, making him looked younger than his years and kicking up every single protective instinct in Bull. The quiet and the healing seemed have done Dorian some good, he wasn’t as washed out and his sleep seemed peaceful. 

He stirred as Bull entered the room, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Time to go?”

“Not quite. Viv’s going to feed us, first then we’ll be on our way.”

He sat up, the blanket clutched in his hands. Bull was pretty sure Dorian didn’t realize how much he was broadcasting his discomfort. “And that’s all that’s going to happen?”

“That’s it, big guy. I don’t know shit about magic, so you get to call the shots on that front. We’re set up pretty well to get to Marothius, my boys will meet us there and hopefully we can leave this place behind.”

Dorian hummed and then tipped his head back on the couch to examine the ceiling. 

“You thought much about what you’ll do when we’re on the other side?”

“There hasn’t been much time for that. Most of my focus has been directed at escaping.”

Bull picked a seat that looked like it would support him and not collapse into a pile of fancy wood and fabric. “So you thought about it a little.”

He was quiet and Bull thought he was going to ignore the line of conversation, but he lifted his head. “Hard not to consider what to do next. I’ll be in exile. Borders crossed illegally, I don’t imagine he’ll stop looking for me just because I make it out of the country. My particular skill set isn’t as revered in the south. I might be able to attach myself to a circle or university, but again, paperwork. Nothing that would afford me to living in the style to which I’m accustomed,” he said the last with a bit of a grin.

“Yeah, you’re going to make a terrible poor person.” It was a bit of a chance to throw the joke out, but the laugh Dorian gave him was honest and not at all forced. 

“Maybe I can start a blog, that’s a thing people do, isn’t it?”

Bull would read it, some rich kid tossed into the unforgiving world without a net? It was the kind of thing they’d pass around the office when they had some down time. “You don’t have any other family that might help you out?” What was the point of families if they couldn’t be depended on in times of trouble? From what he learned from his interactions with people outside the Qun, family wasn’t half as good as everyone pretended. Sure there were some good ones, but there were a lot more that were indifferent or downright bad. 

“Hardly. I have cousins who would delight in my downfall.” He seemed about to say more, but pressed his lips together. 

“Well, just remember: don’t take money from strangers and if someone offers you a modeling job, it’s a scam.” He paused and examined Dorian’s face. “Though, maybe not. Do some research on that one, don’t just get in some guy’s van.”

“Thanks,” he laughed again, but that time sounded strained. “Perhaps I’ll find myself a benefactor.”

Bull snorted. “Benefactor? What is this, Dragon 9.32? Nobody has benefactors. Unless,” he paused. “You mean a sugar daddy?” 

Dorian cleared his throat and shifted, his eyes slid away from Bull and then back and then away again. “Why would you assume I’d be looking for a man?”

For a moment, Bull thought about letting Dorian hide, it was the kind thing to do and what Dorian wanted. But considering they were on the run together, he thought it best to get everything in the open. “Dorian. You’re on the run from your father who’s using a demon to take over your body so he can get you to do something you refuse. You said yourself you’ve turned down marriage arrangements. Tevinter is notoriously fucked up about sex. You stare at my ass when you think I’m not looking. And there are a couple of pretty hot pictures of you and some guy in a nightclub on the internet.”

Instead of a fight or a front, he looked shocked. “I didn’t think any of those survived.” He sounded breathless, which was not the response Bull expected at all.

“They weren’t easy to find, but things like that stick around.”

“You underestimate my father’s reach.” He cleared his throat. “Do you still have access to them?”

Bull pulled out his phone and typed in the page. There, in some squirrely little backwater of the internet, were two dark cell photos of Dorian and another man. They were dancing, pressed together. Dorian’s arms were up over his head and it was hard to tell from the quality of the picture, but Bull thought his eyes were closed. There was definitely a smile on his face. The other guy had his face pressed into Dorian’s neck, mouth open, the pink edge of tongue just visible. 

He handed the phone over and Dorian traced the image with his finger. “Darius,” his voice broke. “Halward had him killed the night he kidnapped me. I don’t have any pictures. Halward was thorough.”

Bull bit back a growl and resisted the urge to get up and pull him into a hug. It was getting easier to read Dorian but the day, but right then he couldn’t tell if Dorian would have welcomed his touch or not. “Shit, that’s hard.”

Dorian shrugged, like it was the kind of thing that happened all the time. Who knew, maybe in Tevinter in his social circles, it did. “He wasn’t, he wasn’t my boyfriend. I’d met up with him a few times, dared to be seen in public with him. After years of me telling Halward I was never going to change, it was these pictures that made him understand.” He drew a shaky breath. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I knew Halward would be upset. I never thought he’d,” his hand tightened on the phone. “But it doesn’t matter. He did.”

“Hey,” he waited until Dorian looked at him. “That’s not on you. We don’t make other people do things. Your father made his own choices and carried out his own actions. You can’t spend your life carrying that for him.”

“Easy enough to say.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s the kind of thing you’ve got to work at.”

Dorian cleared his throat and leaned over to hand back the phone. “Well, we managed to range a little far afield. And I do not stare at your ass.”

Bull let him change the subject. “You do. You totally do.”

“You’ve very tall. It’s practically at eye level.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s a good ass.” He raised his eyebrows at Dorian. “Not as good as some, but I do okay.”

Before he could respond, one of Viv’s servants stuck his head into the room. “Sers? Lunch is served.”

They ate an only slightly uncomfortable lunch with Viv. The food was plentiful, if a little fiddly for Bull. Dorain and Viv seemed to enjoy it, though and they spent a good ten minutes talking flavor profiles and wine pairings.

When they were done, she walked them to the garage. “You’re certain you won’t stay the night. I could help if Halward tried to complete the spell.”

Dorian shook his head. “I can handle it.” 

“Better if we get on our way.”

She frowned at them and Bull felt like he was standing in front of his tama, his hands covered in the evidence of a minor crime. “Do as you wish. But please call if you run into trouble. It’s a pleasure to see you, dear.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek and he sighed. In another life, in a world where she didn’t have Bastien and didn’t need the status of a noble to keep her in power, he would have totally tried for that.

She’d probably shoot him down there, too, but it would be worth it.

*

“So.”

Bull kept his attention on the road. Hard enough with just the one eye, he didn’t tend to look at his passengers when he was pushing 70. “Yeah?”

“You and Vivienne?”

He laughed. “Nothing there. She’s devoted to Bastien and that’s not the kind of thing I do. Doesn’t mean I lost both my eyes, or my hearing, or sense of smell.”

“I half expected her to come after my knuckles with a ruler, to be honest.”

He sighed with a grin. “Yeah.”

Dorian leaned against the window, silent, but Bull could feel him working on something. 

“What’s up?”

He jerked, like he hadn’t been filling the SUV with his thoughts. “It seems so easy for you.” Bull made a questioning sound and Dorian continued. “You like Vivienne and you show it. You,” he gestured between the two of them. “You show it. Like it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal for me. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal for everyone. Even people outside of Tevinter struggle with this shit, right? The Qun has a pretty practical approach to sex, it’s a thing some people need and it gets taken care of. Nobody feels bad because they can’t eat shellfish or they don’t like rice. Sex should be the same way.”

“You should feel bad if you can’t eat shellfish,” Dorian muttered. “They’re one of the true joys in life.”

He laughed, but kept it short so he could stay on point. “Look, it should be easy, but it’s not. If you want me to lay off, say the word. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.”

“Do they teach you to speak in clichés under the Qun as well?”

Bull held out his hand and rocked it back and forth. “A lot of Qun language is hard to translate, our words and phrases often mean multiple things. Clichés and metaphors were easier to learn at first. So, I should back off?”

He mumbled something into the window, the glass fogging at his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said I don’t mind. It’s been a while since anyone bothered to notice how spectacular I am.” He rolled his shoulders back and Bull could tell he expected a joke in response. 

“You are certainly that.” He was rewarded with a faint blush and the hint of a smile at the corners of Dorian’s mouth.

Bull drove with the kind of determination that came from too little sleep and too much worry. He kept an eye on his speed; no use trading cars and keeping out of sight to get pulled over by a cop. He pushed through the weariness that clung to him, focusing on the road and their goal. 

As night crept in, they both tensed, worried that Halward would make another go at the spell, but the sun set and the sky grew dark and Dorian was still himself. They ate in the car and stopped only when it was critical to the running of the car. For as big as it was, it was pretty fuel efficient. He’d have to remember to send Viv something nice.

Not long after sunset, he got a text from Krem that they were safe in Marothius. At a gas station off the highway, Bull downed two energy drinks and decided to power through. If they kept straight on, they’d hit Marothius by morning. He could sleep when they were on the other side of the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is plot coming, I promise. I thought we were going to hit it in this chapter, and then Dorian and Bull got chatty. Not that I'm complaining, I think the scene with the two of them in Vivienne's sitting room is one of my favorites of this whole piece, but there is action-y stuff on the horizon.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, dear readers, you're all too wonderful for words.


	9. Chapter 9

Bull was just riding the edge of exhaustion when they hit the city limits of Marothius. Though Dorian had tried to stay awake with him through the night, he’d succumbed to the pull of sleep hours ago and all Bull had for company was the staticy radio and the passing mile markers. Of course Viv’s car was equipped with satellite radio, but Bull didn’t want to take the chance and turn it on. Bad enough that there was a good chance the car could be shut down remotely, he didn’t want to make it any easier for them to track.

Krem had texted him the address and directions to where they were holed up and Bull pulled into the driveway of a small farmhouse on the north end of the city. He reached over to touch Dorian’s shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Bull could feel the heat of his skin, running hotter than was normal for a human. “Dorian.”

He jerked awake with a gasp, his hand flailing until he caught Bull’s arm. Even startled, Dorian didn’t try to push him away. Instead he slid his hand up until he could grip Bull’s fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, big guy. We’re in Marothius.”

Dorian relaxed, but kept his grip on Bull’s hand. He had a strong hold, more powerful than Bull was expecting and he had no desire to break it before Dorian was ready. “I was dreaming.”

“Yeah?” The fear was gone from his face and Dorian shifted into something softer, closer to sleep. He looked almost sweet, almost like something Bull wanted to cuddle.

“I was in a boat and there were sharks in the water, but they weren’t bad. They were protecting me.” He closed his eyes for a second, reliving the dream, or maybe wishing he could go back there. 

“Sounds nice.” Qunari didn’t dream the way humans did. Lots of Qunari liked to say they didn’t dream, but that was a load of shit. They did dream, but it was more purposeful. Bull relived memories, or worked through problems in his sleep. Even as his body rested, his mind continued to work. He’d never had a fanciful dream like he’d heard from his non-Qunari friends, but he knew what it was to be disoriented on waking, thinking he was somewhere else.

Dorian drew in a deep breath. “It was.” He stretched and in the process let go of Bull’s hand. “I didn’t mean to sleep.”

The door to the farm house opened and Krem trotted down the steps toward the SUV. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” He had a fleeting desire to stay in the car with Dorian in their quiet little cocoon where Dorian wasn’t overwhelmed by the pressing needs of the world just yet. But there was shit to do, and none of it included stolen moments in a car. 

He popped his door and met Krem hallway down the driveway.

“You look like shit, Chief.”

“Thanks.” He kind of felt it, too. “Any trouble?”

Krem eyed Dorian as he stumbled out of the car. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. It’s been quiet. But, uncomfortable quiet. Like something’s coming.”

Bull had been feeling the same uneasiness. The closer he drove to Marothius, the more he felt like they were walking into a trap. Not that he thought Dorian was leading them there, Dorian wanted out of Tevinter just as bad as any of them. But something wasn’t right. He appreciated not getting caught by the police in their mad dash across the country, but at the same time, it seemed unlikely that they’d all pass unnoticed.

Still, it wasn’t anything he could fix just then. “I need to sleep. Get Dorian fed, he’ll give you directions to the hangar. We’ll leave at dusk, so come up with a plan.” He had a moment’s worry that the boys would be rough with Dorian, not physically, but too many questions, too fast. He shared a quick look with Krem and trusted him to keep it civil. 

Inside the house, he collapsed in the first bed he found and slept.

He woke on his own, a little light still in the sky, and the warm smell of something spicy cooking in the kitchen. His left side was warmer than it should have been. To his surprise, Dorian was curled up against his side. It should have disturbed him more that Dorian was able to enter the room, share the bed, without waking him. But after sharing space over the previous days, maybe it wasn’t so odd.

The problem, really, was how good it felt to have Dorian there with him. He was warm, but not fever-hot and his breathing was slow and even. Bull reached out and brushed his fingers through Dorian’s hair. It was soft and thick. He sighed. 

“Hey, big guy.” He kept his voice soft and took his hand away.

Dorian stretched, his eyes still closed, until his spine popped. A full body shiver ran through him and he drew in a slow breath. When he opened his eyes, he flinched, and then drew a façade of calm. “Apologies. The other bed was filled with gear.”

“Hey, I’m not ever going to complain about waking up to a pretty face.”

Dorian sat up and ran his hands through is hair, reordering the trails that Bull had left. “You always do that.” There was a frown on his face that creased not just his mouth, but his forehead. 

Bull shrugged and let him stand up and move away. “I’ll stop if you want.”

“So you mean nothing by it, then? It’s harmless.”

Bull gave his own stretch, feeling muscles burn after hours in the same position. “I don’t know that I’d say harmless. I like to flirt, I like to let people know that I’m game if they are. Doesn’t mean it’s nothing. Just, an open door.” He stood and felt every old knotted scar, every muscle that wasn’t as strong as it used to be. Eve’s place was well set, though, and he was looking forward to a bath that was big enough to hold him.

Across the room, Dorian was still struggling. “And you don’t care that I’m a man?”

Bull heaved a sigh and resisted the urge to shake him. They’d covered this, hadn’t they? “It doesn’t put me off, if that’s what you mean. I know what I like, and you definitely fall into that category.” Pretty, mouthy, strong. “Yeah, definitely. But just because I’m into you doesn’t mean that I’ll keep pushing if you’re uncomfortable.”

Dorian brushed his hand over the arm that had been pressed against Bull. “I,” he glanced to Bull and then away. “You have to understand the last time I was, open, in my affections, something terrible happened.”

It was easy to give in to the desire he’d that had been brewing under his skin for days. Bull crossed the room and took Dorian in his arms. He felt good, warm and strong, fitting against him in a way that Bull could get used to.

Dorian started, then relaxed into his hold, squeezing back tight enough that it would have hurt someone not Bull’s size. He drew a breath that rattled through him. “It’s been months since someone touched me like this.” His voice was steady, but soft. “I was locked away while Halward tried to decide what to do with me.”

Bull stroked his hand up and down Dorian’s back, feeling the play of strong muscle and the nips of his spine. He wanted to tell Dorian he was good and strong and more than whatever Tevinter had told him he was, but he was pretty sure Dorian wasn’t in a space to hear him when he said it. Instead, he kept his touch firm and constant, letting Dorian eat up the contact. 

When Dorian’s hand snuck up to wrap around Bull’s neck and pull him down for a kiss, it wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was the ferocity of Dorian’s kiss. He attacked Bull’s lips, demanding and in control. He stroked into Bull’s mouth, and kept his hand tight at the back of Bull’s neck. It was the kind of kiss that a person developed when they didn’t have a lot of time to devote to the art. It made Bull want to slow him down and spend hours taking him apart with nothing but a hand on his jaw and a lesson in slow, slow, barely there kisses.

“Chief?” Krem knocked on the door and Dorian leapt away from Bull, thought the door remained closed. “You up?”

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a minute.” He had a moment’s regret as all the softness, all the fierceness in Dorian had faded. He looked hunted again, and shaken. “How about we shelve this until we get out of the country, yeah?” It was easy to get bound up in the idea of the savior, think maybe that he owed something he didn’t or felt something he didn’t. “You still want something from me when we’re in Skyhold, you let me know.”

Dorian gave a hasty nod and backed toward the bathroom. “I’ll join you shortly,” he said before putting a closed door between them.

Krem had that look, that judging look, when Bull exited the bedroom. 

“What?” he asked, thinking he should have been just a little less defensive.

“I didn’t say anything.” But Krem had that look and it wasn’t going away. “You know I wouldn’t question your judgment.”

Bull snorted. Krem questioned him all the fucking time. “But?”

“But this feels an awful lot like a trap and your pretty little Altus has you by the balls.” Stitches and Dalish were the only other people in the room and as soon as they heard Krem’s tone, they got up and excused themselves without a word.

“He’s hurting and alone and he needs help. That’s something you should be able to appreciate.”

Krem took a step closer, his finger out and jabbed into Bull’s chest. “Don’t. _Do not_ compare the two of us like we’re the same. He’s a spoiled, entitled shit. He’s everything that’s wrong with this country and he’s going to get us killed.”

Bull sighed and wondered how many ‘vints he was going to have to hug before the day was done. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

“You can’t stop the tide, Chief.” But he dropped his hand. “Tevinter is relentless and the mages here don’t _care_ what happens to people. Is he worth it?” _Is he worth more than me_ was Krem’s unspoken question. 

Krem was so good at his job, his arrangements of the business so effortless, that when Bull caught glimpses of the scared kid he met in the bar on the edge of the Tevinter border, it almost always caught him off guard. Bull spent most of his time trying to make sure the jobs they took, the lives they built back home were safe and secure for all his people, so he didn’t have to see those glimpses of them anymore. So they wouldn’t be confronted with those moments themselves. 

He threw an arm around Krem’s shoulders and dragged him close. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

For just a moment, Krem leaned into him, and then he pushed off Bull’s arm with a sound of disgust. “You’d better.” He crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin toward the stove. “Eat something. We’re about half an hour out from the hangar; we can leave once it’s dark.”

Bull let him have his space and tucked in to the food. It was a spicy curry layered over rice that reminded Bull of jungle heat. He ate it anyway, appreciative of any food he didn’t have to make himself.

When Dorian finally joined them, there was a slight level of tension still clinging to him. Had Bull not been looking for it, specifically, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

“This is good,” Dorian commented after his first bite.

Krem grunted. “Yeah, don’t choke on it. I’m going to go pack the car.”

*

Tension was high as they drove away from what Bull hoped was their final safe house. They’d cleared the last traces of their occupation and headed out once full dark set in. He and Dorian led the way, since Dorian was more familiar with the route, and he kept close watch on his boys in the rearview.

“Is it strange that I’m more nervous now, that we’re so close?”

Bull shook his head. “That’s normal.” He had his own list of things that could go wrong running through his mind, tiny bumps from a flat tire all the way up to an armed welcome at the hangar. “Breathe through it.”

“Yeah.” He did as Bull directed, the even, deep breaths filling the silence. “It’s a left up here and then all the way down to the end of the road. Felix’s hangar is last on the left.”

“Felix?”

Dorian turned toward the window. “My friend who taught me how to fly.”

“He going to mind we’re taking his plane?”

His hands flexed into a not quite fist. “He’s not well. And if he was, he’d have no objection.” 

Dorian was an absolute rabbit warren of shitty history. “That where you would have gone if I hadn’t picked you up?”

“I don’t know.” He sank further into the seat. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I supposed I would have tried to get to him, but I don’t know that he would have been able to help me. I don’t think anyone could have helped me if you hadn’t found me.”

Bull let that sit between them as he pulled the SUV into the parking area next to the hangar. The gravel crunched under the tires and filled the silence well enough. The other cars pulled in next to them. “Come on,” he patted Dorian’s leg. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The hangar was locked with a key pad and a magical glyph, both of which Dorian was able to bypass with little trouble. The door slid back, the hangar empty and cold. Bull let go of the breath he’d been holding. He crossed the threshold, the rest of them just a step behind him. “You think she’s gassed up?”

“Felix is fastidious about that sort of thing.” He crossed to a metal cabinet to retrieve the keys. “I used to tease him for it, but given the circumstances—“

“I’d be more ashamed that you’re so predictable, except that it means it was that much easier to get you back.” A tall, older man stepped out of the shadows, staff in hand. Glyphs flared across the room and Bull couldn’t move. To his left, and behind, the others were frozen as well.

“Father.” Dorian fell back a step, the only one not contained. “How?”

“Dorian,” Halward Pavus sounded pained, disappointed beyond all reasoning. “I have your blood. It was easy enough to track you. You got farther than I expected, I’ll give you that.” He slid his gaze over Bull. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at the level of help you’ve sunk to.”

“Why don’t we all calm down and talk this through.” Bull had no hope of Halward’s reasonableness, but stalling for time seemed the thing to do.

“There’s nothing to discuss. The police will be here momentarily to take away my son’s kidnappers and I’ll be able to tell the Imperium how grateful I am to have Dorian home safe. And if he’s a little different than he was before this whole ordeal, who can blame him?”

Dorian backed away from Halward until his shoulders hit the wall of the hangar. “You can’t.”

“You’ll find I can. I am _tired_ , Dorian. Had you given me any other avenue to resolve this matter, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this. But you brought it on yourself.”

Bull struggled against his hold, but there was no moving the magic that sealed him in place. In the distance, he heard sirens approaching. He couldn’t look at Krem. Couldn’t look at any of his boys. He’d led them face first into a trap and he didn’t have a clue how to get them out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry? 
> 
> On the plus side, there will be another update for this by the end of the weekend and then I should be back to regular posting. Thanks for being patient during the break--thanksgiving and the reverse big bang threw off my schedule a little.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a new chapter without the long ass wait. And an ending to this one that's slightly less fraught.

Dorian straightened, his hand clenching around the keys to the plane. “What if I come with you, willingly? Will you let them go?” Bull was never so proud of Dorian as he was in the moment, even as he knew the futility of the bargain. Never trust a man in power; it was one of the oldest and firmest truths Bull knew.

“You’re coming with me anyway. You have nothing to negotiate with.” He flicked a dismissive glance at Bull. “No. The public needs closure. I went on television,” he sneered the word like it physically hurt him. “They need to see justice served.”

A case so public, they’d get buried in charges. None of them would ever see the outside of a prison. Might even try to execute them. Bull closed his eye. This was what life outside the Qun got him. A few years free of the steadying influence and he was already making choices based on feeling instead of facts. He should have never gotten them involved with Dorian. They were in Tevinter for a job, not to solve every sad story.

“This isn’t justice.” Dorian’s voice crackled with power and Bull open his eyes to see fire burning up along his arms. He looked like an old god, furious and righteous. 

Halward laughed. “You want to try your magic against mine?” He adjusted his grip on his staff. “You’re without your staff and I have years of practice on you.”

Dorian didn’t give him a reply. Instead, he launched wall after wall of fire at his father until the hangar was like the inside of a forge. Halward’s barrier held through the onslaught, but Bull could see the surprise in his face, the beginnings of worry.

“Would you burn your own father alive?” He had to shout over the sound of the flames.

Dorian threw another wave of fire at him. “Would you give your son to a demon?”

In addition to breaking the veneer of superiority around Halward, Dorian’s magic had the added benefit of weakening the magic holding Bull in place. To his left, Skinner and Rocky were both able to move their arms and with effort that left him breathless, Bull was able to take a step. He nodded to Rocky, who was closest to Halward.

In between bouts of fire, Rocky darted across the hangar and clubbed Halward in the back of the head with the wicked baton he favored over real weapons. Dorian dropped his hands and staggered, but stayed upright. His hands were still covered in fire when Bull approached him.

“Think you can still fly, big guy?”

Dorian shook his head. “The police. We’ll never make it.”

“We have a better chance of flying out of here than anything else.”

“Boss?” Skinner was standing over Halward’s prone form, her gun trained on his head. 

“That’s not my call. Dorian?”

He paled and the last of the fire went out. Bull thought he was going to have to catch him on his way to the ground, but Dorian shook it off. “I can’t. Not when he’s not fighting back.”

“I’m on it. Go get the plane ready.” He trotted to Skinner. “Make sure he’s out for the count, but don’t kill him.”

“Boss.” She looked at him like he was the greatest disappointment.

“I know, but it’s not my call. Shift him out of the way and then get in the plane.”

Krem came up on his blind side. “You think that thing can carry all of us?”

“Seems like it.” Bull was quiet for a moment while he tried to figure out what Krem wanted him to say, but he was surprisingly hard to read, and not just because he couldn’t see him. 

Krem beat him to it, though. “Is this going to be one of those times where I have to hit you with a stick when we get home?”

Bull dropped his shoulders from their defensive hunch. “Yeah, probably.”

“Okay.” He patted Bull’s arm, then broke away. “Let’s go, Chargers. In the plane. We’ve got cops to outrun.”

As the rest of the Chargers sorted themselves into the plane, Bull crawled into the cockpit. “Need help?”

Dorian shook his head, though his hands were shaking and he was still washed out of his normal dark tones. Unlike other planes Bull had seen, the cockpit was a mixture of machinery and magic. Some of the controls were meant for touch, some Dorian moved with an unseen force. “I’ll have us ready in a minute.”

The sirens were closer, but not right on top of them and Bull didn’t want to push. “Take your time, big guy.”

That brought a grin to Dorian’s face. “Nothing but time, right?”

“That’s right.”

Another switch and the engine hummed to life. “Everybody in?” When Dorian got his confirmation, he started moving the plane out of the hangar. Lights from the police cruisers flashed up at the end of the road. “This is going to be close.”

“You’ve got this.” Bull projected his most calm, his most supportive voice, even as his hands dug into the seat rests hard enough to tear the expensive leather. 

Dorian laughed. “Yeah. Nothing to worry about.” He steered the plane to the short runway and kicked on the propellers. The flashing lights fell behind as they picked up speed. 

A crack rent the air. “They’re shooting at us, Chief.”

“Nothing to be done about that right now.” Calm, calm. Everyone was calm. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, low and quiet just for Dorian’s ears alone.

Dorian’s hands were tight on the wheel, his breathing short and shallow. “Come on, come on.” 

More shots as the plane’s speed increased. There was a bump and a shudder through the metal that had Dalish gasping behind them. But Dorian kept his focus and the next bump saw them airborne, sailing smoothly up into the dark night and far out of the range of the police below.

The air in the plane stayed tense and cautious even as they gained altitude and began eating the distance to the border. “You doing okay?”

Dorian nodded, kept his eyes focused on the dials and readouts in front of him.

“You think we can make it to Skyhold?”

He didn’t answer right away, and that was actually a comfort. Bull appreciated a true answer over a comforting one. “Yeah. Yeah, we can make it.”

“Somebody get on the phone to Eve and tell her we’re coming in hot.”

*

About an hour into the flight, when Dorian’s hands had stopped shaking and he looked less like he was in danger of being sick or passing out, when they were finally, finally out of Tevinter air space, Bull traded places with Dalish. She was a quick learner and he wanted someone to be able to keep them from crashing into a mountain or the sea. She had also, conveniently enough, been seated next to Krem.

Who was pissed. “Chief.”

“You were right. I’m sorry.”

Krem blew out a sigh, then leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I fucking hate it when you do that.”

“You’re going to have to help me out here, cause I’m not sure how many things you’re pissed about.” Calm. It was important to stay calm when Krem was mad and give him space.

“When you apologize right away. I’m fucking angry and you just come up and roll over with your belly all exposed. 

Bull shrugged. “I was wrong. It was a trap. I shouldn’t have put you in danger that way, but I also wanted to help Dorian and it’s hard,” he waved his hand. “When there are two things that I want, it’s hard to know how to choose between them. I was hoping it would work out for both.” The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought they were caught had yet to dissipate. It lingered, building until he thought it might overwhelm him. “You come first. I don’t know how I forgot that.” 

Krem slumped forward. “Aw, Chief. No. It’s not about us coming first. We’re not the Qun. We’re not a replacement for the Qun. You’re allowed to want things, right? And I’m allowed to want to not spend the rest of my life in a Tevinter women’s prison.” He sneered as he said it and it was like a punch in the chest. “But maybe practice wanting things on a slightly smaller scale next time, yeah?”

“I don’t want—“

“Yeah. Yeah you do. And that’s okay. People are allowed to want. To have things that are for themselves. Maybe,” he ran his hand over his chin. “I’ll look at the books when we get back. Maybe we could all use a break before we take another job. We’ve been running for months now and you never really had time to deal with, you know. What happened.”

What was there to deal with? He’d made a choice, and all that was left was to wait for the inevitable madness. He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, not at all pleased when Krem pierced him with a perceptive look.

“You know, not everything that’s told to us when we’re children is true. Weren’t you the one that said that just because Tevinter said I was one thing didn’t mean I didn’t know better?” He nudged Bull with his elbow, a little pleased smirk on his face. He loved it when he could throw Bull’s lessons back at him, only this time, the lesson wasn’t the same. There was a difference in knowing something despite what a closed-minded society said, and knowing what was coming because of evidence. Bull had seen Tal-Vashoth. He’d witnessed first had what it did to a Qunari to be cut off from the Qun. It wasn’t a myth, or a misconception. It was a fact.

But that wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have on a crowded plane. In fact, it wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have at all. With anyone. “Maybe you’re right.”

Krem snorted. “You should listen to me. I’m full of good ideas.” He looked out the window, the bright moonlight enough to illuminate the passing landscape below. “Have you thought about what we’re going to do when we get to Skyhold? This isn’t going to go away just because we’re out of the country. Eve can keep us from being extradited, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. It means no jobs to any country that has a treaty with Tevinter.”

“Plenty of places for us to work, still, while we get Dorian lawyered up to sort it out.” Honestly, they could run jobs for Eve and never have to worry about taking another commission ever again. She brewed trouble like any three people he knew. And he knew some dangerous fucking people.

There was a pause, then Krem leaned in, his voice just loud enough to carry to Bull alone. “And if he doesn’t want a lawyer? If he doesn’t want to drag him and his family through the shit show that media circus is going to be? What then?”

Bull looked toward the cockpit where Dorian was showing Dalish how to work the controls. He was hunched over, and he looked tired, but he smiled at something she said and continued explaining. There were worse things than the situation they were in. When he looked back at Krem, though, he could see that wasn’t a universal thought. “I don’t know. And it’s not something I can answer until we land. Maybe we won’t need Dorian for a case, if he doesn’t want to testify, maybe Eve can work something out for us. Maybe something else will come up. I don’t know. But we’ve been running for days, and I need the chance to get some real sleep before I can make you any kind of guarantees. Except that I’ll take care of you.” It wasn’t until he said it that he really felt how tired he was. Not just lack of sleep, but running on high alert since he picked up Dorian was taking its toll on him. 

Usually, a sharp tone was enough to get Krem to back off, but he pushed through. “I like Skyhold, Chief, but I’d like it to be my choice if I’m going to stay there forever.”

“Krem—“

“They used my birth name, when they started talking about us on TV. There’s a fleet of camera crews staked out in front of my parent’s place.” He dug out his phone and brought up his text history. “I’ve gotten, on average, ten texts a day from my dad. He never texts me. Ma fakes his signature on my birthday card every year.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So, you know, just.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I hope he’s worth it.”

Bull nodded, but stayed silent. He didn’t know how to tell Krem that they were all worth it. Every single one of his boys, every weird or bad or sad situation they came to him from, it didn’t matter. He’d do it again and again because he was good at pinpointing what people needed. He’d been trained for years and years to pick it out and turn it toward usefulness. What the Qun had never been able to train out of him, though, was feeling the desire to fix things, once he found the need. 

And if their situation changed, if they were never able to leave Skyhold, Bull would keep on working on his boys. He’d find a way to give them all what they needed in the context of their news lives. They were his. Oh, they didn’t belong to him, but they were his responsibility, and it was a bond that was deeper than anything he could voice, or commit to paper.


End file.
